Hamartia
by samjen-trek
Summary: Star Trek Pirate AU. When Jim is enlisted into the Royal Navy along with his boyfriend Franklin, things couldn't be going better. But the seven seas hold dark secrets, of a pirate captain who is not human. When Jim's ship is attacked, he has no choice but to join this pirate crew and learns that there are even darker things lurking in the sea than he could have ever imagined...
1. Chapter 1

**Hamartia**

**'the fault or error that entails the destruction of the tragic hero'**

* * *

This is a collabrative fic between Pathopoeia and princesspandapui, please check out both our profiles for more Star Trek fics. We hope you enjoy, and please review!

* * *

**Chapter One**

It was a miracle that Jim Kirk and Franklin Jones were enlisted, let alone enlisted together on the ship. It wasn't that they were bad sailors; they were both excellent at cleaning the decking and working the riggings, however Jim wasn't so good with a sword and Franklin got seasickness if the waves were too rough. They were beyond excited though and spent the night in each other's arms, celebrating the fact that their relationship wasn't now going to be taxed by distance.

Their assigned ship was The Duchess. It was the jewel of the Royal Navy; one of the swiftest ships on the sea with forty-two guns and a crew of twenty-five and they were leaving on it first things tomorrow morning. Jim and Franklin would be part of a team whose mission it was explore the seven seas and seek out new islands and countries. It was an incredible opportunity. Four years aboard a Navy ship and Jim and Franklin could ascend the ranks to become officers or captains.

The sun wasn't fully up when they reached the docks the next morning. Its golden pink light danced on the water, which stretched for miles and miles, full of promised lands and adventure. Franklin's parents came to see them off – Jim hadn't spoken to his mum or step-dad in years and he wanted to keep it that way – and they stood huddled in the crowd that had gathered to watch the impressive Navy cast off.

Jim and Franklin stood with their crew, dressed in their uniforms of crisp white and dark blue with matching sailor hats, as Captain Samuel Harvard marched up to the helm. And then they were off. As the ship made its way out of the docks the crowd cheered and waved, and Jim looked at Franklin with a grin before winking. Their adventure had started, the world lay ahead of them, and they had each other to hold at night. Everything was finally perfect in Jim's life and there was nothing that could dampen his spirits now.

They would be patrolling a particularly dangerous part of the North Pacific, where seven ships had disappeared without a trace in the last four months. Stories were emerging amongst the common folk of a mysterious pirate captain who wasn't human...

Jim found these tales more amusing than anything else, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe these rumours had sprung up out of thin air. While it was impossible that it was some supernatural pirate captain, something had destroyed those ships and the good men serving on her. Jim stood on the deck of the Duchess and breathed in the salty air. It was time to sail.

For the first few days Captain Harvard worked the new crewmen hard, keeping them so busy they practically passed out with exhaustion at the end of the day. Jim and Franklin hardly got any time together, but they found they didn't mind so much. It was beyond glorious having the sea breeze in your hair, and the first mate seemed to have taken a liking to them. Her name was Penelope DuLance and she was a stunningly beautiful woman at whom the crew couldn't help staring at. Perhaps it was because Jim and Franklin were together that she liked them.

It seemed forever before Jim and Franklin could finally be alone together, and they celebrated all the hard work they had done for the Royal Navy by cuddling up together on one hammock. Jim closed his eyes happily and listened to the sound of water lapping against the side of the ship. He felt Franklin heave a little and looked up at him with a small smile.

"Poor baby." Jim kissed his cheek. "You'll get used to it.

Franklin closed his eyes. "I bloody hope so. It's not so bad when I'm working, but lying still like this..."

"Maybe I can help?" Jim trailed his hand down to the man's stomach, but Franklin stopped him.

"There are other people about Jim. Not right now."

Jim sighed and pouted, but kept his hands to himself. He actually found the rocking ship comforting, especially with them being in a hammock. He was grateful for them being so hard at work, because it meant it didn't take Franklin too long to sleep, and Jim always liked to wait for him to drop off before sleeping himself. It was something he had always done ever since their first night together three years ago. Jim smiled gently to himself and planted a gentle kiss on Franklin's cheek.

The ship creaked gently on the waves, and the air smelt salty and fresh. With his thoughts on the man in his arms, Jim let the sounds of the ship pull him into sleep.

X

The next day the air was thick and still, and after only an hour up in the riggings, Jim was dripping in sweat. The salty spray barely cooled him down, and Jim did not envy Franklin who was down in the hold. With no wind in sight, they had to rely on their oars and rowing was hard, grueling work. Jim knew that Franklin was going to be in a foul mood later. He loosened part of the rigging, closing his eyes in relief as a burst of sea water cooled his back. The entire crew was on edge, tension clear in the lines of their weather-worn faces. There should be wind, there should be waves. Stories of the vanishing ships were making their way from the cabin boys to the senior officers, and even though they all laughed in the face of superstition, Jim had caught more than one officer pressing a good luck charm to their lips as they headed further and further into the pacific.

It wasn't until that night did Jim properly hear the stories. The day had been taxing and everyone was exhausted, and to keep up morale the captain had agreed to passing round a few bottles of cheap rum. It tasted foul but it did the job, and as someone played a fiddle, the crew all sat on the deck chatting and singing and fighting. Finally there was a breeze enough to carry the along, and even though the night was cold, nobody seemed to care.

Jim sat in Franklin's arms, leaning backwards against his chest, enjoying the sound of the fiddle and the orange he was slowly eating.

"Which port do you think we'll make first?" He asked, taking a big swig of the rum as it passed by them again.

Beside them, the cook Gregory gave a barking laugh. "If we even make it to port!"

"Oh to hell with those stories!" Hansel called from across the music, and the fiddle played ceased his song.

"They're true, I tell you!" Gregory snapped back. "I've heard it all over the shipyards."

Jim leant forwards, pulling a face as he took a slurp of rum and passed the bottle on. He grinned.

"Go on then. Tell us your ghost stories, I'm not scared."

The others joined in at this challenge, and eventually Gregory gave in, claiming a whole bottle of rum for himself in payment. Jim raised an eyebrow as Gregory started the story in a low throaty voice.

"Legend tells of many a monster in these seas. The sirens who have the faces of those you love, then drown you when you jump overboard to reach them. There are whirlpools with teeth that will crush a ship whole, monsters that pluck sailors from the deck of their ships and rip them into pieces. But nay, that isn't what is taking our ships. Tales tell of a pirate Captain who isn't human, who has unbeatable strength and can read your thoughts." He pressed a shaking finger to his forehead, "he can reach inside your mind and tear it out bit by bit, aye, he can see every fear and every nightmare and make them seem real."

"And what, he's been eating navy ships?" Jim asked with a chuckle. Gregory shot him an angry glare.

"You laugh all you like laddie. No, this Captain has a beast of the sea at his command...the Kraken. No ship has faced it and lived, aye its life is tied to the sea itself so it can never die. An immortal creature under the power of an inhuman pirate."

There was silence at the end of his sentence, followed by groans as they realised the wind had dropped again. The deathly still of the water set Jim's teeth on edge but he blamed it on the rum and the damn stories. He got to his feet and stretched.

"Well, this has been really interesting but your bedtime stories have got me all sleepy. I'll see you later." He gave Franklin's hand a private squeeze as he headed for his hammock. The next lot of sailors made their way to the oars, and as Gregory's story echoed in Jim's head once more, he couldn't shake the feeling that all those myths had to come from _somewhere_.

X

When Jim woke up, he was still alone. There was no sign of Franklin, and the air was freezing cold, goosebumps erupting on the flesh of his arms. Jim got up just as an unearthly howl echoed from outside. He pulled on his boots hastily, his heart in his throat as he ran towards the stairs to the upper deck.

What met him was a sight from hell. The deck eerily silent and yet strewn with bodies, blood staining the wood, and from below what was left of the crew were now running up with swords. Jim's knees gave way beneath him and he shuffled backwards until he was hiding amid some barrels. All about them the water was beginning to churn and Jim was sure it was growling too and the ship was being rocked this side to that, the riggings and the sails getting caught up in each other until everything was a mess.

It wasn't until Franklin found him could he move again. His boyfriend grabbed hold of his hand and gave him a comforting smile and pulled him to his feet, but Jim couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood that soaking Franklin's clothes.

"Is that yours?" He almost screamed, "What's going on?"

Franklin held his hand to his side, and blood welled between his fingers. His face was pale and contorted with pain.

"Jim, thank god I thought it had got you. It was fine, everything was fine until one of the officers found a body...and then more just kept coming and then-"

There was another shriek that made the wood of the ship tremble. Jim clapped his hands over his ears and pulled Franklin to the floor.

It was then that the screaming started.

A barbed tentacle that was thicker than the bloody _mast _smashed into the side of the ship, sending splinters of wood raining down and several men overboard. One officer was impaled on one of the spines, choking black blood out of his mouth.

"Holy fucking _shit_." Jim pulled Franklin back to his feet and ducked under what was the remains of one of the masts. "Where's the Captain?"

Franklin shook his head helplessly, a small trail of blood leaking from the corner of his lips. A sudden fear gripped Jim's chest so hard he almost couldn't breathe.

"Look at me, look at me we are going to be fin-"

Another tentacle cracked down only meters away and Jim was flung backwards. He reached for Franklin's blood slicked hand, and their fingers touched for a moment before they were torn apart. Jim hit the main mast front-first, and let out a howl of pain as a fractured piece of wood embedded itself through his shoulder. He couldn't see Franklin. Men were jabbing at the tentacles with swords and the marksmen had retrieved their rifles, but it was useless. Jim pulled himself upright, gasping as white-hot pain rocketed through him. There was a piece of wood as long as his forearm and round as a doubloon in his shoulder, and thick blood was beginning to seep down his shirt.

"Franklin?" he yelled hoarsely, ducking the tentacle that began wrapping itself around the main mast. "_FRANKLIN!"_

Jim didn't know how he managed to find him in the sea of bodies littering the deck, but he did. Franklin reached him, his clothes now dark with blood.

"Jim." he said. He grabbed Jim as though he were going to kiss him, but instead he shoved with all his might, sending Jim tripping backwards over the side of the ship and plunging into the dark water churning beneath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Thank you for the reviews my lovelies!**

* * *

The water was like ice and Jim's body seemed to go into shock. He was a good swimmer but for some reason his limbs felt like lead and they just wouldn't move. He was very conscious of the fact that something huge and evil lurked in the depths just feet away from him, but all he couldn't see the tentacles anymore. He couldn't even see the ship anymore. The water was littered with scraps of broken wood, with bodies and crates and destruction. Jim waved about his arms and kicked as best he could, trying desperately to keep afloat as he shouted for Franklin. For anybody. It was all in vain however as the current, his shock and his exhaustion took over and he started to drown.

Someone had told him once that drowning was a peaceful way of dying, but what Jim was experiencing was anything but peaceful. his lungs ached with the need to breathe, and as he choked down the salty sea water his throat started to burn. He was surrounded by blackness, aided only by the blurriness of water in his tear-filled eyes, and then blurriness as he started to lose consciousness. It was terrifying and messy and painful, and in no way peaceful at all. At least he would be with Franklin again, he thought, because how had anyone survived that attack? Whatever that monster had been, it had most definitely left no survivors.

But when Jim suddenly felt a body beside him, grabbing hold from under his arms and hauling him towards the surface, he was sure it was Franklin. He was sure someone had survived. Hands grabbed him from above and he was dragged out of the water and into a small wooden lifeboat. Bodies crowded over him, and a gruff voice shouted at them, but he didn't hear what was being said, and as a pair of lips pressed to his and blew air into his lungs, Jim released a cry. He chocked and coughed up water, rolling clumsily onto his side, and a pair of large strong hands took hold of his upper arms and sat him up.

"Damnit man!" a voice snapped from somewhere in front of him, but Jim's vision hadn't cleared enough to make out the face yet. "Didn't think we'd revive you then!"

Jim's head rolled backwards onto his shoulders, gasping for breath. He saw several more faces, each one of them as blurry as the next, but none of them Franklin. Panic exploded inside him and Jim lashed out, pushing away the gruff man who had spoken and scuttling backwards in the lifeboat until he almost capsized it. Everyone cried out - he heard 'whoa' and 'watch it man' - but Jim wasn't paying attention because these men were not part of The Duchess and they weren't dressed like anyone from the Royal Navy. Their clothes were mismatched, ragged and dirty, made up of layers of shirt and tunic and coat of different materials and colours as though they had thrown anything on together. Their faces were unshaven and dirty, and about their middles they carried swords and pistols. There was only one explanation.

They were bloody _pirates_.

Jim's heart leapt into his throat and he reached out for the nearest person - an Asian man with short black hair in a grubby yellow shirt - grabbing hold of the sword at his belt and brandishing it. The tip caught the gruff man who had spoken about the chin, leaving behind the smallest of cuts, and then everyone jumped at him. The sword was wrenched from Jim 's frail grip and he was pinned roughly to the floor of the lifeboat on his front, his hands bound behind his back, and then finally his body gave up and his eyes rolled in his head and he passed out.

They were on a ship when Jim next woke up, he knew this before he even opened his eyes because everything was rocking gently from one side to the other. His throat was on fire from the salt water and his shoulder was throbbing with pain. He shuffled and realised his hands were chained. He yanked against the restraints experimentally, but the metal simply dug into the sensitive skin of his wrists and pulled at his wound. The wood had been removed from his shoulder and it was now bandaged, the white material stained with blood. He was on a small wooden cot in a dank room, presumably quite a ways beneath the main deck. There was nothing else in the room save a small bucket and a cup of dirty looking water. Jim got up from the cot and found that his chains allowed him to reach it. He gulped the water down greedily, licking any escaped drops from his lips and letting the cup drop to the floor. He could not quite reach the door, no matter how hard he pulled. Jim gave up after several attempts, his wrists beginning to chafe red and sore. He was no longer wearing his navy uniform, instead dressed in a simple white shirt and dark trousers. His feet were bare. He slumped onto the floor and pressed shaking hands to his face. He had survived an attack by what had seemed to be a monster from a fucking old wives _tale _only to be 'rescued' by pirates. Jim knew about pirates, and he knew that dying on the Duchess would probably have been less painful than his fate on this ship. Torture and a painful, slow death was all that awaited him.

Jim felt the beginnings of tears prick at his eyes, tears for Franklin and because shit, he was _scared_. But he refused to let them fall, wiping them away with the back of his hand and staring resolutely at the wall. When they came for him, he would say nothing. They could torture him all they liked, it would be nothing, _nothing_ compared to what he had just lived through.

After making this decision, it was only a few moments later that the door to his room opened and a tall, lean man entered. Jim could tell by the stance of his shoulders and the look in his eyes that this man was the captain of the ship. There was a short, ugly knife at his hip and a shiny pistol. He looked at Jim with dark, emotionless eyes. Jim pushed back the shiver of fear that was crawling up his throat. As the Captain stalked towards him, Jim realised something.

His ears were..._pointed_?

_"Tales tell of a pirate Captain who isn't human, who has unbeatable strength and can read your thoughts. He can reach inside your mind and tear it out bit by bit, aye, he can see every fear and every nightmare and make them seem real."_

Well, _shit_. Apparently the universe had decided to give him the worst kind of luck.

Jim tore his eyes away from the curiously blank face staring down at him and glared at the floor. Had he been looking, he would have seen the Captain raise a single, amused eyebrow.

"My crew tell me you were the only survivor." His voice was low and deep. "They retrieved you from the water, saved your life at the risk of their own, and you repaid them by trying to kill them."

Jim ground his teeth, willing himself not to reply and not to look up. The captain continued to stare at him for a long time before swooping down to pick up the fallen cup, and Jim took more notice of him. The - whatever he was - had white milky skin that was smooth and spotlessly clean, unlike his crew, and beneath his captain's hat, Jim could just make out neat black hair. With a jolt of sadness he was reminded of Franklin's black hair, and Jim bit down hard on his lower lip to stop himself from tearing up again.

"Tell me your name." The captain said, his tone suggesting that this was a command and not a request.

Jim only bit down harder on his lip. He didn't even notice he made it bleed. His fists were clenched in his lap and he wished he was back in the sea. It would be better than being here.

There was the rumple of material and Jim found himself face to face with the strange Captain, who had dropped to his haunches and was looking at Jim straight in the eyes.

"Tell me your name. I promise you, you will not enjoy the alternative."

Jim wiped the blood from his lip and winced as the metal bit into his already injured wrists. Seeing the evidence of an attempted escape, the Captain's mouth thinned and his voice was low and dark when he spoke.

"I will give you one last chance to cooperate with me."

Jim spat a mouthful of blood at him.

The Captain's eyes darkened, glittering black and he pressed a burning hot hand to Jim's head. Jim flinched from the touch, and then everything went white. His whole life seemed to flash before his eyes. He saw his mum and his brother, his step-father beating him, running away from home only to be dragged back, the first time he met Franklin, their first kiss, their night together before leaving on The Duchess, listening to the fiddler and the whole attack on the ship. Franklin pushing him overboard. His body seemed to burn up as though he was on fire, as though someone was pumping poison through his very bones, and then suddenly he saw a memory that wasn't his.

He was a man with pointed ears like the captain's, and a woman with normal ears. The woman was smiling, stroking his hair and talking to him, saying how proud she was, calling him "Spock".

The captain ripped away his hand as though he had been bitten, straightening up and backing away. Jim was panting heavily and he was shaking all over. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he stared up at the man before him with wide frightened eyes. He had never been so terrified in his entire life.

"Tell me how you did that." The captain ordered angrily, his dark eyes flashing.

Jim looked away from him, trying to make sense of what he had seen. He didn't _understand_.

The next moment however the captain had marched back up to him and slammed him hard against the wall by his injured shoulder. Jim released a scream and threw back his head as fresh blood started to seep through the bandages and his white shirt.

"Tel me how you did that!" The captain snarled.

"I don't know! I don't know! Please! Stop! It fucking hurts!" Jim kicked out as best he could, but the captain was so strong he could hardly move. The tales of his strength had not been exaggerated, as Jim could damn well feel the bruises blossoming on his skin under the unyielding fingertips digging into him. The salty tears still falling stung his bloody lip and he was choking for breath, jerking helplessly against the Captain who held him down, seemingly without effort. "_Please_."

The Captain's..._Spock's? _grip loosened and Jim barely had time to be relieved before the hand reached for his face again. This time the memories came slower, and they hurt more.

_His tenth birthday, standing outside and mom is holding George close and Frank is standing behind them as if he belongs there. Jim rattles the locked door helplessly, crying to be let in. Mom's eyes shadow with pain, and Frank comes, his hand making contact with Jim's face so hard that he flies into the dirt and the door shuts again. He is so cold out here._

_He steals Frank's prize horse and gallops into the desert, towards a cliff edge and he is flying and free until the sheriff catches up and brings him back after shooting the injured horse in the head. Frank hits him until he can't breathe and then he is being held under the water in the rusty bath they have and he is drowning and then he wakes up alone._

_He trades everything he has for food, and eventually all he has left is his body and even though he is thirteen he trades that too. Eternal nights in the company of rough, cruel strangers and all Jim remembers through the tears is the sight of the moon watching him. He imagines that it is his father looking over him. He wished he had known his father. _

_The sailors come to town years later, and Franklin is there with soft eyes and dark hair, an easy smile and he kisses Jim on the beach and tells him they could travel the world together and he would be free on the sea. No one could hurt him. _

_And now he is here, and he has never been more afraid, not even of Frank and those dark strangers and he is drowning again._

The fingers left his face and instead gripped his chin, tilting it upwards so they could look at each other, only Jim closed his eyes as he sobbed. He had spent a long time hiding those memories, swallowing them down until they didn't hurt anymore, until they were nothing more than slivers of a past life that he had long left behind. Within the space of seconds this pirate captain, this _Spock_, had brought them all back and reopened the wound. Jim felt wracked, broken, and ill.

"Fascinating." Spock climbed to his feet. "It is apparent you do not actually know how you did that."

Jim finally looked up at him. "What are you?" He gasped.

"I am now your captain." He replied, emotionlessly. "There is no one aboard this ship who does not work for their keep."

"I won't work for pirates!" Jim hissed.

A boot connected his his shoulder, pinning him once again to the wall by his wound. "If you refuse to work Mr _Kirk_, I shall throw you back into the water myself." Spock said, and then he left the room and locked the door behind him with a clunk.

Jim shuffled on his hands and knees towards the bucket, but didn't made it in time, instead being violently sick on the thick wooden floorboards. He was trembling uncontrollably and so he curled up in one corner of the room, clutching his arms around himself and trying to think of nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Here is a lovely long chapter as a thank you :)**

* * *

The next day, Jim awoke to find his wrists had been bandaged and there was a fresh dressing on his shoulder. There was a bowl of broth and a large cup of water and a smaller cup of wine placed by the door. Jim went to them eagerly, downing the broth hungrily and rinsing his parched mouth, alternating the wine and the water. It was only then that he realised that he was no longer chained up. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wrists. He felt...well, he felt _okay_, all things considered.

There was a folded pile of clothes on one end of the bed that he had not slept on. A rough cotton shirt with a patchy leather jacket that was supple under his fingers. A pair of strong boots and a belt with weapon holsters. No weapons though - while Jim was a _very_ good shot, he was terrible with a sword. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. If he had any hope of surviving, of getting back to the navy and telling them what happened, he would have to play along. He pulled on the clothes, wincing as he was essentially garbing himself in the uniform of the enemy. Jim ran a hand through his blond hair to tidy it as he had no comb, and ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. There was no way he would be trusted with a razor. The door thunked open and Jim whirled around.

"Ah. You're awake."

It was the gruff man who had saved him on the lifeboat; Jim recognised his voice. He was fairly attractive despite his grumpy expression and stubbled jaw, and Jim saw the small cut where he had attacked him with a sword. He ignored the squirm of guilt.

"I though maybe old pointy ears had killed you and left you in here to rot." The man continued. "Now get on the bed."

Jim looked round at the bed, but didn't move.

"I said get on the bed!" The man took hold of him and hoisted him easily onto the bed, placing down a leather bag that appeared to be full of instruments. "Name's McCoy, Leonard McCoy, but everyone calls me Bones."

"You're... a doctor?" Jim questioned, as the man pulled out a small glass phial and a needle. "Hey! What you doing!" He tried to scramble off the bed,but before he knew it the man had jabbed him in the side of the neck.

"It won't kill you, jeez." Bones hissed, packing everything up. "Now take your clothes off."

Jim stared at him in fear. "I just dressed!"

"And now I'm saying take them off. Captain want's me to give you the one over." He took a step backwards and folded his arms, fixing Jim with a glare. "If you don't do it, I will."

Clenching shut his jaw, Jim slowly removed everything until he was completely naked, and he stood covering himself with his hands, looking everywhere but at Bones. The doctor laughed gruffly and started to check him. He took his temperature and his pulse, felt all up and down his arms before removing the bandage on his shoulder to check the wound. Jim saw black bruises all over his chest where the captain had manhandled him and winced at the memory. Bones didn't say anything; it seemed as though he wasn't surprised, and Jim guessed it had been him who had re-bandaged his shoulder while he was unconscious.

"Well you seem fine to me." Bones eventually said, handing him back his clothes. "I'll tell the captain, god knows where he wants you. I'd go report to him if I were you."

Jim looked at the door, as he dressed. "The... captain?"

"Hm. Spock. Keep going up until you reach the deck. You'll see his door." Bones left him then.

Jim paced the room for a few minutes, summoning his courage. He had lived through worse. He growled at the fact that this Captain Spock _knew_ he'd lived through worse and made a mental note to never laugh at sea legends _ever_ again. After two of them having turned out to be true in one day, Jim was hoping that the universe had stopped fucking with him. He straightened his shirt and left the room. The deck was surprisingly well kept, contrasting with the stereotype of pirates all being lazy, dirty beasts. Apparently not. Jim kept going, hiking up the steps and ignoring the twinges in his shoulder. Eventually he reached the top deck and sighed, breathing in deeply.

It was a beautiful day to sail, the dank weather from the attack was long gone. The air smelt salty and fresh, the ship blowing along the waves smoothly. The sun was warm overhead, and Jim remembered why it was he wanted to sail. His happiness was short lived, as the never-ending pain of Franklin's death hit him again and so he headed towards the Captain's quarters. He saw what Bones had meant about the door. It was made of a dark, strange wood with odd patterns inscribed in it. While he wanted to study them further, Jim thought it probably wouldn't be a good start to his resolution to survive to see Captain Spock's head on a stick if he was late. He knocked on the door.

There wasn't a reply at first, and then the door opened to reveal a pretty woman with dark skin and ever darker hair. She was wearing a dark red dress under a matching red jacket, and she blinked up at Jim with big brown eyes before smirking.

"You look more alive." She said, a hint of something in her voice suggesting she had been on the lifeboat with him.

"Let him in Uhura." Came a voice from inside the room, and it actually made Jim's heart pound with fear.

The woman named Uhura stepped out of the way and ushered him into the room, before closing the door and vanishing from sight. Jim stared about him. The captain's cabin was a large rectangular room with an oak desk in the very centre, behind which sat Spock. There were shelves filled with books and sparkling with gold coins and jewels, and hanging on the walls Jim saw old maps and paintings. It wasn't how he had expected it to be, everything was neat and tidy and clean. To the left there was an open door, revealing a huge double four-poster bed strewn in cushions and blankets.

"If you are quite done examining my bedroom Mr Kirk..." Came a voice from the desk, and Jim looked round to see that Spock was staring at him expressionlessly with one eyebrow raised. "...sit down." He indicated a stool in front of the desk.

"I'd rather stand." Jim hissed through clenched teeth, trying not to sound too disgusted. Spock simply raised a single eyebrow.

"Very well. I wish to inform you of the duties I expect from you while you serve on this ship...unless you have decided that you would rather I tossed you back into the sea?"

Jim ground his teeth in answer.

"Obviously, until you have proven your loyalty to myself and my crew, you will not be permitted to carry any weapons. You will be a rigger along with Riley and Sulu. I presume you know what that means, from your time aboard The Duchess?"

Jim nodded once. "Work the running riggings... furl and release the sails."

"If you do a good enough job according to my first mate, then you shall be rewarded with a meal." Spock wasn't looking at him anymore but had returned to whatever he was reading on his desk. "If, however, you do not, then I shall have no choice but to return you to the holding cell for a few days. This is the way with all of my crew. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Jim swallowed, his braining trying frantically to come up with a retort, but his fear not permitting him to do so.

Spock glanced upwards at him. "Yes, what?"

"Yes captain." Jim replied in a whisper.

Spock waved a hand at him, and Jim retreated back out onto the deck where Uhura was waiting for him with her hands on her hips.

"Well." She was grinning. "Look at you."

Jim rolled his eyes and flashed a grin back. He hadn't ever seen a girl in so short a dress. As if she could see the thought crossing his mind, she smacked him on his uninjured shoulder.

"You make quite the dashing pirate."

Jim's grin wavered a little but he simply gave her a mock salute and began scrambling up the rigging. At least if he was working, he would be focusing on the task at hand, and not thinking. Mustn't think. But he was determined to find out what they knew about the tentacled monster and whether Spock truly was responsible for the deaths of his crew. The ropes were familiar under his hands, and while the shouts of the crew were in unfamiliar voices, the commands were the same as he was used to. He didn't know what this ship was made of, but damn if it wasn't faster than any other ship he had ever seen. She glided across the ocean as though she had wings, and the wind against his skin was so exhilarating that Jim forgot his worries for a while.

It was hours before anyone spoke to him directly though. "You are vell now?" It said, and Jim turned to see a young boy no older than seventeen with curly blond hair. He was perched on the riggings above him with a grin on his face.

"Who are you?"Jim replied flatly, trying to think about nothing but the knot he was securing.

The boy climbed down a little. "Chekov sir!" He saluted. "And you are err Mr Kirk? Yes?"

"You're captain's told you all about me, I guess."

Chekov laughed. "The keptin has err said no such thing sir. I talked to Mr Bones." He paused. "You are doing it all vrong sir." He indicated the knot.

Somehow Jim had gotten it all wrapped about his fingers, and with a frustrated sigh he had to untie it and started over again. "I can't concentrate with you going on at me." He snapped, quietly, but just loud enough to the boy to hear. "Damn fucking pirates..."

A hurt expression came over Chekov's face. "If it vasn't for me sir, you vould be dead." He replied. "I vas the one who saw you sir." And with that he climbed up to the crow's nest and settled himself inside, picking up a telescope.

Jim cursed under his breath. He retied the knot and scrambled across to the next. Taking a break, he looked over the deck of the ship. The Asian man he had seen before was at the helm, expertly handling the wheel. Spock stood beside him, still as a statue. He turned his head as though he could feel Jim looking at him, and Jim quickly turned back to the ropes before he was caught. Looking at the deck in the other direction, he could see Uhura adjusting a pirate hat on her head and stalking over towards Spock.

The sun was setting, and while Jim knew he needed to work faster his mind was tripping over the thoughts that Franklin had always loved sunsets at sea, and that now he would never lay eyes on another.

That night Jim leant that the pirate crew also liked to sit about and drink, only they were much louder and much more disorderly than the crew of The Duchess had been. Jim sat in between two barrels as far away from the rest of the crew as possible, his knees brought up to his chest and his head resting on them. Uhura was expertly dancing in the centre of the deck while fiddles and flutes played, and several of the men had stripped down and were wrestling. Jim however was watching Chekov. The boy was curled up in the arms of the Asian man, and they were giggling and nuzzling and chatting away happily as though they were the only two people in the world.

The sight made Jim's heart ache. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his knees until there was the sound of someone approaching, and a bottle tapped against his head.

"Chin up kid." It was Bones. "Ain't the end of the world you know."

Jim grabbed the bottle from him and started to glug it, ignoring the nasty taste and burning after effect, until Bones managed to snatch it back off him

"Damnit kid!" He hissed. "Slow down!"

Jim blinked against the strong burning in his throat and allowed the doctor to yank the bottle from his hands. He was so tired, but he had to stay up until everyone left. He had to find out the truth about whether Spock had killed all those people. And if he had, Jim would find some way of sneaking into his chambers and killing him, no matter the cost. He'd do it for Franklin.

Eventually the crew began to filter away in small groups, until only he and Uhura remained. She was sharpening a dagger, the blade reflecting the moonlight.

"You should get some sleep," she said, and passed over a dark, thick crust of bread that Jim tore into eagerly. "The Captain was impressed with you today."

This latter part was said in an almost whisper. Jim shrugged and continued staring out at the sea. Uhura rolled her eyes and got up, sheathing her dagger and stalking towards the Captain's quarters. Jim waited until a few moments had passed since she entered and followed, skirting around to where he had seen some windows at the back of them. He breathed silently and pressed himself against the thick wood.

"...the tenth ship in only a few months."

"I am aware of this, Nyota."

"It's only a matter of time until we're next."

There was a pause.

"Do you not think I am doing everything in my power to make sure that does not happen?"

Another pause.

"The situation is under control Nyota, do not worry. I need you to keep performing admirably; the crew do not have to know that this monster is out there. I will not let it happen to us."

"Yes captain."

Uhura's reply sounded strained, as though she was clenching her jaw, and then Jim heard footsteps and the sound of the cabin door opening and closing, and then there was nothing but the wind. Jim sat on his ankles and stared out across the black water. So that tentacled monster hadn't belong to Spock? Were there more than one wife's tale? Of an inhuman captain and of a kraken, and not of them together? He shook his head as the effects of whatever Bones had given him began to set in, but it wasn't long before Jim's eyes were too heavy to open.

He woke up in a hammock deep below deck. The dirty folds of thick material were wrapped about him securely and there was a woolen blanket thrown over him too. He rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his head before sitting up and looking about. He was in a large room that appeared to be two levels below the deck, as he could hear voices above him, but there were no windows looking out, and it was filled entirely with hammocks and bunk-beds and crates of possessions. Jim saw Chekov and the Asian man curled up naked in a bed several feet away, and guessed that it was too early for most of the crew to be up. It was light though, so Jim climbed unsteadily out of bed and smartened his clothes as best he could.

He wished he could have a wash; The Duchess had had basins of clean fresh water, but as he looked about he couldn't find anything of use, and so in the end he climbed up to the deck in the same clothes he had worn yesterday. Bright sunlight greeted him, but there was a chill wind that cut right through him and made him shiver. There were a total of three people on deck. A blond-haired man at the helm, and the captain and Bones standing at the very front talking. As soon as he appeared however they both turned around.

Bones hurried over to him. "It's early; what're you doing up? You should sleep some more."

Jim raised his eyebrows at him. "Who put you in charge?"

"He did." Bones jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Spock. "In charge of you, anyway. The captain wasn't too happy about you sneaking around last night. It was him who took you to bed!"

A flash of fear ripped through Jim's chest.

"You're to stick with me now, below deck, and you best bloody well do as you're told!" Bones' cheeks were red with annoyance.

Jim followed him down below.

There was only a small space designated for Bones to patch up the crew, and Jim was surprised to see that all four of the beds were full, and two more men were lying on the floor. Bones handed him a roll of bandages.

"You ever bandaged a guy up before?"

Jim nodded. He'd had to get familiar with patching himself up even before he had left home. Bones' eyebrows rose fractionally but he didn't ask.

"Change the bandages on him and on her," Bones pointed, "Clean the wound with salt water and put the dirty bandages in that bucket."

Jim hated working below deck. The infirmary smelt of death and disease and he missed the fresh air and salty sweet spray of the sea. He felt trapped and a constant nausea had wedged itself into his throat. He tried not to complain though, thinking about Bones and how he lived with this every day, because he soon learnt that through a door to the left was the doctor's cabin. Jim didn't get a look inside but he guessed that the air was just as foul in there, and he actually took pity on Bones, despite him being a doctor.

"You been on here long?" He asked, as they were washing the dirty bandages to make them clean again.

Bones made a 'pfft' sound. "Near now three years." He said. "It ain't so bad."

Jim hung his head. "You know... Franklin and I were going to explore the world. Go on adventures... bring home buried treasure..."

"Ha! Buried treasure!" Bones barked. "Damnit kid, this ain't a fairy tale. This is hard shit, and the sooner you realise that, the better off you'll be. I hate to say it but your boyfriend is dead, and we're all you've got now."

"Will I ever be allowed off?" Jim asked, swallowing back a lump in his throat.

Bones shrugged. "Sometimes we make port. Can't remember the last time I set foot on land though. We get most our supplies from other ships; food and all. I guess if you ask the captain..." He trailed off. "Nah. He seems to like you. Can't see him giving you up just yet."

Jim pursed his lips. "What the hell does that mean?" He snapped.

"We've got a big crew kid." The doctor replied, climbing to his feet. "Ain't like the captain to take on another mouth to feed. Speaking of which, when are the last time you ate?"

Jim shrugged. He wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, but Bones ordered him through the ship until they reached the kitchen and forced him to eat a bowl of watery broth and bread before they carried on working.

After a while, there was a knock at the door. Jim didn't bother looking up until his name was spoken.

"Jim. Captain wants to talk to you."

Jim jerked upright and met the dark eyes of Captain Spock. He hesitated, but Spock had already turned to walk away, obviously expecting Jim to follow. With a worried glance at Bones, he did.

"Mr Kirk," he said shortly, leading Jim back above deck. Jim breathed in the fresh air with a grin, and did not catch the curious expression that crossed Spock's face. "I made it very clear that you will do as you are told, is this correct?"

Jim frowned. "What the hell-"

"When I found you outside my cabin it was apparent that you had been listening in to my conversation with my first mate Uhura." Spock cut across him, and though his face remained still, his tone was like ice. "It was a violation, and I will not tolerate it happening again. Do I make myself clear?"

Jim grit his teeth and hunched his shoulders. "Listen you-"

He couldn't get out anymore, because suddenly Spock had turned on him and taken hold of his throat. He drove him backwards against the railings and lifted him up slightly until Jim was leaning over the side, and the only thing stopping him from toppling into the water was Spock's grasp. Jim took hold of his forearm, his whole body frozen in wild panic and he stared at Spock with wide eyes. Everyone on deck had stopped their work at the scene, but Spock didn't seem to care. He had fixed Jim with a glare that could have melted metal, and tears of fear actually clouded Jim's vision.

"I said, do I make myself clear?" The captain hissed lowly.

Jim nodded as best he could, profusely, and it seemed like forever before Spock slowly dragged him out of harm's way and dropped him onto the deck. Then he marched off towards the helm and took the wheel from the Asian man. Jim tried to swallow, his already sore throat now feeling even rawer, and then he crawled his way back to Bones. Thankfully the doctor said nothing, and they continued their work in silence. Jim couldn't wait for the day that Spock got what was coming to him.

And Bones had said Spock liked him. Bullshit.

That evening, Jim's meal was smaller - presumably because of his 'disobedience.' He didn't really mind, his appetite was almost non existence and in its place was a hollow terror that never really went away. He ate his meal slowly. Despite Spock's warnings, he was going to listen at the window again. This time he drank no wine, keeping his head clear. He reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into the conversation, and after a while he, Chekov, Sulu and Riley - who insisted he was descended from Irish royalty - played cards. The cards were worn and dirty and they had few things to bet with, but Jim found them to be good company nonetheless. It was too dark to play for much longer, and so their little group meandered off to bed. Except Jim. He waited for a long, long time in the darkness before he snuck back around the cabin. But this time there was silence until-

"Captain."

"Doctor McCoy. Was Kirk's performance adequate today?"

There was a grumble, "Yes. Of course it was, since if he wants to _eat_ he has to work well."

"You disapprove of my methods."

"Yes, dammit. If he starves to death he's no good to anybody, and he can't work on a ship if he isn't fed properly!"

"Well, as long as he continues to perform up to his current standard, there shall be no problem, will there doctor?"

Another grumbled string of curse-words followed.

"Please excuse me for a moment."

There was the sound of the door opening, and Jim barely had time to think. He swung himself over the side of the ship, clutching onto the railings and wedging his feet against a small knot of wood. He ducked his head, but he could do nothing about hiding his trembling fingers as they clung onto the rails.

_Please just walk by. Please don't see me._

For a split second, he was so sure he had saved himself. He saw the shadow of Spock passing by and his footsteps seemed to fade away, but it must have been a trick of the wind because before he knew it he had been grabbed and hauled onto the deck. Spock threw him down so hard something cracked, but Jim wasn't sure if it was his head or his hand because the unhealed wound in his shoulder also started to throb. And then fear gripped him. Spock was leaning over him with a dark look flashing across his face, and Jim was so sure he was about to die, when suddenly Bones appeared at their side.

"Fuck's sake kid!" He threw up his hands.

Spock slowly crouched down, his eyes not leaving Jim's for a second, not even to blink, and then without a word he took hold of his wrist and dragged him over to the main mast. At the contact, Jim started to thrash and kick, but of course Spock was far to strong for him. The captain threw him against the mast and started to fix him there with ropes, before turning to Bones.

"Fetch me the nine-tails." He ordered.

Bones grit his teeth, but he knew better than to question his captain. Jim refused to make a sound even as Spock ripped his shirt from his back. He couldn't see what was going on, but he had an inkling of what was about to happen. Frank had whipped him more than once with his leather belt. Bones appeared in his view, his face unreadable as he placed a small wedge of leather between Jim's teeth.

Spock said something quietly to himself and then the most blinding, white hot pain that he had ever felt streaked down Jim's back. His whole body spasmed and he bit down hard on the leather, pressing his forehead to the wooden mast and closing his eyes tight shut.

Jim didn't know how many lashes he had earned himself, and he didn't care. All he knew was a world of blinding pain, and he wondered why it was that everything in his life ended up twisted into pain and loneliness and blood. Eventually the lashes stopped and Jim couldn't hold himself up any longer, collapsing in a heap with his wrists still tied painfully high. Spock came and undid them, letting Jim fall to the floor.

"Do _not_ test me again, Mr Kirk." he said. And then he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Two updates in one day! Also, beware, here be smut.**

* * *

It took several attempts for Bones to help Jim get to his feet. He was shaking uncontrollably and his back was sticky with blood. He wondered vaguely whether it would be so bad just to throw himself into the sea now and simply drown. Bones helped him to sit, propped up against a wall. He could see the sun was rising.

"I don't...let me stay up here." Jim whispered. His lips were dry.

Bones didn't argue and instead disappeared, coming back with bandages and salt water. Jim braced himself as the salt cleaned the wounds in searingly painful lines. He would have scars for sure.

By the time people started appearing on deck, Bones had long taken Jim downstairs to his cabin, where he finished wrapping bandages so tightly about Jim's middle that he cried out in pain. He felt very light headed, as though he had ben drugged, and he didn't even noticed when Bones pressed a bottle of rum to his lips.

"One swig." He ordered, his voice low and angry. "And then I need you to redress his leg." He pointed over at the man Jim had been taking care of the day before.

He looked at Bones sadly, opening his mouth, but the doctor cut across him.

"Don't even dare." He sounded pained. "You do as you're told."

Jim nodded, getting up stiffly. He would never give Spock the opportunity to hurt him again. He was going to be the best damn member of the crew, find some way to get home and turn that pirate _bastard_ into the navy. They would hang him, and Jim would make sure that he was there to see it. So that Spock _knew_ he had beaten him. With thoughts of vengeance fueling him, Jim managed to ignore the pain in his back for the whole day. Crew came and went, and Uhura even seemed vaguely impressed to see him working despite the pink tinged bandages covering his back.

He kept up an air of quiet determination, and even though he wanted to hide from the suspicious eyes of the rest of the crew, when it was time to eat Jim made himself go up onto the deck. He sat next to Chekov and Sulu and listened to the stories they were telling, eating a small brown roll that Sulu had snuck over to him. Jim was amazed at the man's kindness and ate it quickly before it could be taken away from him. Surely being whipped had been enough, but no. Spock had made sure he would suffer by having no meal. The roll given to him by one of Spock's own crew tasted much better with that thought.

X

He went to bed that night with difficulty, as a hammock wasn't exactly fantastic for injured backs, and in the end he settled on his front with one leg handing over the edge, and he swung slowly from side to side. It was enough for him to sleep, although in all honesty Jim was sure it was the pain and exhaustion that knocked him out. So when he was roughly shaken away by Chekov, Jim wasn't too happy, but he barely had time to ask him what was going on when there was an explosion and the ship shook. They were under attack.

Jim rolled out of his hammock and scrambled to his feet, wincing in pain, but then he froze as he remembered he wasn't allowed any weapons. Would Spock or Uhura give him one to help defend the ship? Jim never got the chance to find out because there was a second explosion and he was thrown to the ground, and it was then he was reminded of the attack on The Duchess, and his body went into shock. The memory of what had happened was still very fresh on his mind, and no matter how much he knew he should help, he just couldn't. Jim covered his head with his arms and curled into a ball, wishing he was anywhere but here.

It was Sulu who came to find him. The Asian grabbed hold of his shoulder and wrenched him to his feet, shoving a sword into his hand before dragging him up on deck, where Jim discovered there were no tentacles or monsters, only other pirates and another pirate ship. This was just a normal attack, a human attack, with nothing supernatural about it. That gave him strength, and as Chekov released a shout of help, Jim turned and raced across the deck towards him. He was terrible with a sword and it wasn't long before he dropped it, but he was better with his fists, and together he and Chekov killed the man and sent him overboard.

Chenkov was panting and slapped Jim on the shoulder before sprinting off up the rigging to the crows nest. Jim looked around him and ducked another sword stroke. He grabbed the attacker by the shoulders, pulling him towards him and sinking his knee into the man's ribs. As he staggered backwards, Jim relieved him of his pistol and shot him in the head. The handle of the pistol was worn, steady under his fingers.

Seeing an enemy pirate chasing Sulu over the deck, he aimed and fired. The pistol was a little old, but Jim was an excellent shot and the man dropped to the floor just as Sulu turned around to decapitate him. Jim gave him a wink and turned to shoot another pirate in the chest. He briefly considered finding Spock and shooting _him_, but then Jim would be dead for certain. For now, he was one of the crew, serving on the fastest pirate ship in the pacific and taken straight from sea legends. It was a funny old world.

Jim reloaded the pistol hastily, ducking behind a barrel. There was the shout of a woman when he emerged again.

Uhura was frantically defending herself from who could only be the enemy pirate Captain who had boarded them, the swords clanging together as he pushed Uhura further and further towards the side of the ship. Jim ducked under the sails as he sprinted for her, raising his pistol. He could see Spock attempting to reach Uhura as well, but he was surrounded by attacking pirates.

Jim leveled the shot, hoping that someone wouldn't come up behind him. It was going to have to be one hell of a shot, what with the pair moving all over the place. He couldn't risk shooting Uhura. He breathed in slowly, and then out. He pulled the trigger.

The enemy Captain's head exploded in a burst of blood and brains, his hat scattering to the floor and the sword dropping from his lifeless hand.

Uhura looked at him, breathless, pale, surprised, and at the same time the fighting seemed to cease. With their captain dead, the attacking pirates all laid down their weapons and held their hands high in the air, and there were shouts and cheers in celebration. Sulu appeared behind Jim, patting his chest and grinning, thanking him, hugging him, and although it made his back throb with agony Jim actually smiled. They had won, and now they had a whole ship to plunder, which was what they spend the next several hours doing before sending the attacking pirates on their way.

Uhura tossed him a beautiful pistol she had scavenged with an ivory handle in place of the older one he had stolen. It fitted in the holster on his belt, and he felt somehow stronger with the weight of it at his hip. It meant that even as Spock stalked over to him, he found that he could meet those dark eyes with his own blue ones. Franklin had always said his eyes were blue like the sea.

He didn't reply. Something had changed in Spock's eyes, and Jim was trying to figure out what it was. Admiration? Awe? No, it was none of those. Nearer to want, maybe? He shook his head and cleared his throat.

"Captain." Uhura suddenly piped up. "It seems we were not as lucky as we thought. We're going to have to do some repairs."

Spock ripped his eyes away from Jim's and nodded. "Mr Sulu, set a course for the nearest docks. We shall make port and tend to our ship."

With that he marched into his cabin, and Uhura was left to order everyone about the ship. It wasn't long before Jim found himself back with Bones, patching up everyone who had been injured. Jim had the absurd want to cry. He didn't understand why - it wasn't as if he had never killed before.

He missed Franklin.

He wondered what he would have thought of all this - but then, Jim wondered if maybe Franklin wouldn't have wanted to know. He couldn't see Franklin here. It worried him that _he_ somehow was fitting in here.

X

Chekov was sitting on Sulu's shoulders, holding up a bottle of rum.

"For ze Enterprise!"

The crew cheered, and Jim realised that must be the name of the ship. He ran a hand over one of the wooden beams, the creaking life beneath. She was a good ship. It was a shame about her crew. The day was busy as they sailed quickly to port, and if Jim had thought the Enterprise was quick before, he realised that he hadn't seen her at her best. Even with cannon ball holes and scorches from their attack, she was a smooth sailer. Jim had been allowed back on the upper deck, under the watchful eye of Bones, and as everyone prepared for a few days of shore leave they sat passing between them a bottle of rum.

It was night by the time everything was ready. Uhura and Spock had gone ahead and had luckily found a group of men willing enough to fix up the ship, which didn't surprise Jim as they seemed to have docked in a pirate harbor. All he could see were taverns and all he could hear were drunken shouts and screams, and it was this very reason he opted to stay aboard the Enterprise. Bones just made a 'pfft' sound and waved a hand at him, walking off and muttering something about finding a woman for the night, and so he was left alone.

Jim leant on the railings and stared out across the blackness that was the water, lit up only by the moon and the lights of the harbor behind him. It was actually a beautiful sight and of course it reminded him of Franklin. With a small sigh Jim sank to the decking, wedging himself between some barrels and bringing his knees up to his chest. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back aboard The Duchess. His joy of being part of the pirate crew earlier was immediately gone, and Jim blamed Bones' rum for that.

He was reminded of Franklin's death in everything. In Sulu's and Chekov's interactions, in the sunsets and the sunrises. He tried to remember what Franklin's kisses felt like. It scared him that he was slowly forgetting and it wasn't long before his body shook with suppressed tears.

He had no idea how long Spock had been standing there before he actually noticed him. Jim's hiding spot between the barrels obviously wasn't as hidden as he thought, or the captain had heard him, he had no idea, but Jim stiffened when he noticed his presence. He quickly wiped his cheeks and hoped that the darkness of the night shielded them. The captain was standing very upright with his hands behind his back, as he very often did, and after a few moments further he marched forwards until he was standing directly in front of Jim.

"You are unhappy." He said, and like a lot of things he said, it was a statement and not a question. "And yet you are alive and well, and appear to be making friends among the crew."

Jim clenched shut his jaw. "They're not my friends." He hissed quietly. "I only fought earlier to survive!" Although part of him _knew_ this wasn't true.

Spock suddenly crouched down, his fingers locked together in front of him and his head tilted to one side as though he was trying to read Jim. His face was blank though. "No. There is something else. Something you are holding inside." He held out a hand.

Panic exploded inside Jim as he recognised what he was doing, but because he had wedged himself between the barrels he couldn't move an inch, and it wasn't long before he felt those hot fingers pressed to his face. There was that same jolt and white light from before, and then he saw everything he had been replaying in his mind recently about him and Franklin. Spock seemed to read every single memory as easily as if he was reading a book, and Jim even saw memories he had forgotten about.

He saw the time they had gone out for a drink and gotten arrested after shacking up in the local stables, caught mid-action by the farmer's daughter, and he saw the time Franklin had taken care of him when he'd caught a strange disease from overseas. New tears filled Jim's eyes as he felt loss and pain, joy and arousal, all at once at the recovery of the memories, and then Spock removed his fingers and suddenly it was all gone.

"You miss your mate." He said, matter-of-factly.

Jim glared up at him, wiping his cheeks angrily. "Stop doing that! Get away from me! Don't ever touch me again!"

The captain however, and much to Jim's surprise, reached down and took a rough hold of his shirt, dragging him to his feet and across the deck until they reached his cabin. Terror flooded through Jim at this, wondering what on earth the captain was going to do to him, and he was even more surprised when Spock pushed him into a chair and offered him a glass of wine. He took it silently and downed it in once, wincing at the strength before staring up at Spock.

"You have been on my ship for a few days now Mr Kirk." He said expressionlessly, sipping his own wine. "And I have been watching you closely."

Jim was reminded of his whipping at this statement, and he lowered his gaze and looked into his empty glass, which Spock then refilled.

"What I do not understand is why you have not found a replacement for your mate." He continued.

"He wasn't replaceable!" Jim snapped, hurt. "I loved him, and now he's gone! I can't just shack up with someone else and forget about him." He drained his second glass and put it down on the table.

Spock was suddenly leaning over him, his hands resting on the arms of the chair so that Jim couldn't escape without either pushing him away or slithering awkwardly to the floor. He had removed his hat and was examining Jim's face closely, and then ever so slowly he reached out a single finger and traced Jim's cheek, where there was a tear that hadn't been wiped away yet. Jim flinched a little at the touch, but was too busy staring up in Spock's eyes to notice.

They didn't look so black anymore, which was strange because the cabin was dark except for a few lit candles on the desk that cast an orange glow. They were actually nearer a dark chocolaty brown and they had a softness to them that didn't match the cold stone of his face. Jim was completely enchanted. He seemed to lose himself inside them, and whether from the wine or from grief, he had no idea, he suddenly reached up and pressed his lips to the captain's.

Spock wasn't surprised. In fact he just leant in closer until Jim was pressed against the back of the chair, and he parted his lips. Jim attacked them hungrily, drowning in everything he was feeling. There was guilt at kissing another man, fear of the captain, a slight buzz from the wine – and worst of all – lust for Spock's touch. The thought hadn't even cross his mind, but now he was kissing him, Jim realised he wanted nothing more than for Spock to rip his clothes off and touch him everywhere. When the captain finally pulled away Jim was ashamed of the small longing whimper that escaped him.

"Fascinating." Spock said calmly. "It appears as though the grief you feel for your mate is forgotten as soon as you are with another."

Jim's cheeks darkened and he narrowed his eyes. "That isn't true!"

"On the contrary Mr Kirk, what I just experienced was most certainly lust." Spock continued. "And it appears as though you are very much aroused."

Jim jumped to his feet, trying to ignore the throb in his pants. "I'm not some whore you can play around with, you bastard!" He hissed, and he turned on his heel and marched towards the door.

The next thing he knew he had been taken hold of and thrown so hard against the nearest wall that Jim grazed his palms trying to stop his nose from being smashed, and Spock pressed up from behind him. Jim felt lips against his ear and shivered at the hot breath, but then his attention was very much on the pair of hands that were fumbling up his shirt, and to his horror he tilted back his head and moaned. It was felt so good to be touched; he hadn't even touched himself since Franklin – and at the thought of his death a rush of guilt flooded through him.

"C-Captain!" He stuttered.

Spock stilled his hands, breathing deeply in his ear. "If you ask me to stop, I will." He whispered, huskily, and then he pressed Jim harder up against the wall.

His hands massaged Jim's stomach and chest, gently now and more specifically, long fingers teasing every inch of him before steadily moving lower and lower. Jim held his breath, tense and unable to move, his head telling him to shout out stop but his body craving the touch that it obviously so badly needed. Spock placed a hand flat against his abdomen and pulled his lower half away from the wall just enough to slip his other hand inside his trousers, and Jim released a long low shuddery breath.

It wasn't like he had expected. Spock's hands were smooth and soft and hot, unlike Franklin's which had always been a little rough, and they moved with expert precision. Jim had never been touched like this before, and he was deeply ashamed of the sounds that escaped him, even though he was gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Spock stroked him and teased him until Jim felt far too close not to climax, but then somehow he never did, and the pleasure built and built until he felt like he was going to explode.

Only then did Spock remove his hands and start dragging him over to the bedroom, and instantly a wave of panic swept through Jim, but it wasn't enough for him to stop. He was thrown down onto the bed, where he was forced to watch as Spock removed his coat and shirt with long slow movements that seemed to drag on forever. He kept his trousers and boots on for now, dragging Jim towards him by his ankle before lying down.

"If you perform adequately, I shall reward you." He said in a low voice.

Jim had to try very hard to control himself. "I'm not a pet."

Spock raised one eyebrow but said no more, taking hold of Jim's head and forcing it between his legs. To his horror, Jim found himself fumbling to pull open Spock's trousers, and he wasted no time in taking the long hard member into his mouth. It barely fit, which of course only spurred him on, and Jim used every trick he had ever learnt from his time with Franklin and from before that as well. He couldn't tell if Spock was pleased though, because he kept his face expressionless, watching Jim work closely.

It wasn't long before Jim's mouth started to ache, but still he wasn't given an order to stop, and he was just about to give up and call the whole thing off when Spock sat up and took hold of him roughly by his hair. He released a shout of pain as his head was jerked up, and then a shout of surprise as he was pushed face first onto the bed. Spock maneuvered about him, planting soft butterfly kissed down his spine as he removed both their trousers with ease.

"W-wait! Wait!" Jim cried, trying to get up, and to his relief the captain actually released him and sat back on his feet.

There was an expression on his face that Jim couldn't read, but his eyes were dark with lust and his cheeks were flushed green? It was hard to tell as the only light came from the candles through the door. Jim stared at him for a long time, before staring down at his crotch, and then back up to his face again. Thoughts of Franklin crossed his mind and he felt a pang of guilt and his heart started to ache with the loss, but he knew deep down that he was dead and no amount of grieving for him was going to bring him back.

Tears filled his eyes and he turned his head away from Spock, who then reached forward and took hold of his chin, dragging him into a kiss that was deep and breath-taking, and then Jim was pushed back down face first into the bed. He was momentarily muffled, which was a good thing because the feel of Spock pushing into him was both painful and the best thing he had ever experienced in his life. He was allowed no time to get accustomed to the captain's girth. Spock began to move against him expertly as though all he did all day was practice fucking people, and because of his size he was able to pull right out and all the way back in again without breaking contact.

Jim arched his back and grabbed at the bed sheets, moaning so loudly he was sure the whole rest of the crew could hear. It was no wonder he soon climaxed, but as wave after wave of pleasure wracked his body, Spock continued for a few thrusts more. Then he pushed in as far as he could go and tensed, shuddering and pressing his face into Jim's shoulder blades. They both collapsed side by side on the bed a few moments later, drenched in sweat and panting and aching and whenever Jim moved his lower half there was that familiar twang of discomfort.

He looked up at Spock, who was lying with his eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face. Jim loved Franklin, but that had been the best sex of his entire life, and he had no idea how he would ever have sex as good again unless it was with Spock. He allowed a small smile to flicker across his lips, but all it took was Spock looking down at him to wipe it away.

"Get out." The captain ordered.

Jim blinked at him. "Wh-what…"

"You do not have any hearing deficiencies that I know of." Spock said. "I ordered you to get out of my cabin."

Something close to glass shattering seemed to happen inside Jim and immediately his earlier tears returned. Spock was being deadly serious. The hint of softness to his eyes had vanished and they looked as cold and as black as they always did. Jim shuffled out of bed as best he could, but his legs were trembling and he couldn't walk very well, and it took a lot of effort to pull on his clothes and leave the cabin, and as soon as he stepped out into the night he burst into tears. He didn't bother going to his own bed below deck, but instead went to Bones' medical cabin, curling up in a ball on the only bed not supporting an injured body.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

When Jim opened his eyes the next morning, he almost had a heart attack because Spock was standing over him. They were still at port; he could hear the voices, but it seemed the repairs were still going on, and the captain was watching him with a very curious expression. Jim avoided his gaze, feeling incredibly sorry for himself, and sore too and his backside ached, but he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood it. This however proved to be a mistake because his legs gave way, but a strong arm wrapped about his middle and Spock scooped him up, holding him against him.

Jim blushed deeply, and then pushed him off, smartening his clothes. "What do you want? Captain." He added sarcastically.

Spock raised a single eyebrow. "I was surprised to find you here and not partaking in festivities with the rest of the crew. Did you need medical attention?" There was definitely something akin to arrogance in his words. Jim gave him a mock salute.

"No sir," he pushed past Spock and out into the sunlight, blinking blearily. Sulu was standing nearby with a man that Jim had not seen before. Sulu waved him over, and aware of Spock still standing behind him, Jim went.

"This is Mr Scott." Sulu said, "He's the reason the _Enterprise_ sails like the wind, isn't that right?"

The other man grinned.

"Aye, I designed her but you fella's do a fine job o' sailing her, so I cannae take all the credit." Mr Scott looked Jim up and down, "This the fella you rescued from that ship?"

Jim resisted the urge to ask what exactly his definition of _rescued_ was, but Mr Scott's voice was friendly and when he held out his hand, Jim shook it.

"I'm Jim Kirk."

"Montgomery Scott!" he said, shaking Jim's hand enthusiastically.

"So you're here to do the repairs, hey Scotty?" Jim asked, folding his arms.

Sulu smirked. "And we're helping, so how's your back? Need you up in the riggings."

It wasn't his back that Jim was worried about, more like his back_side_ but he said no word of it and started up the riggings with Sulu as Scotty barked orders at them. Much to Jim's dismay, Spock remained on deck and watched them, well watched_ him_ with that arrogance still on his face. It made it very difficult to concentrate and once or twice he slipped, and Jim wished he hadn't left his pistol in Bones' cabin and could shoot Spock in the face with it.

He never got the chance, because as the day turned to night, the workers slowly started filtering back to the taverns, and this time Jim actually went with them. What met him was a foul smelling and dirty bar full of overweight painted women in dresses that were far too tight. He sat himself between Bones and Sulu and drank the glass of whatever that was passed to him.

He felt rather out of place here and kept his head down when a bar fight involving Mr Scott (who he had taken to affectionally just calling 'Scotty') and an insult to his Scottish heritage. At least he attempted to keep out of the way, until one of them cracked a bottle over Scotty's head. Scotty, by some miracle or sheer stubbornness did not go down, simply staggered backwards before Jim lunged over and punched the guy with the bottle in the face. Bones' expression was between exasperated and completely unsurprised, and his frown increased when Sulu and Chekov joined in the fight, Chekov yelling aggressively in Russian.

The fight was only broken up when Uhura pressed the barrel of her pistol to the head of the man who had insulted Scotty. The bar went quiet.

"Do you know who I am?" her voice was strong and unwavering despite the fact that his buddies had pistols aimed at _her _now. "I am the First Mate aboard the _Enterprise_, and these fine fellows here are part of my crew."

The man had gone crossed eyed looking down the barrel of Uhura's gun and appeared to be shaking with fear now.

"I suggest you apologise to good Mr Scott, and then get the hell out of here. Understand?"

"I uh..." the man swallowed, "I am sorry, Mr...Mr Scott."

"Aye, you better be."

Jim straightened his jacket as the men dispersed and Uhura sat at the table, shaking her head in amusement.

"That, gentlemen, is how you win a fight." Uhura said loudly, picking up her drink and downing it.

Scotty gave her a playful shove. "Ah could've handled it." He scoffed, but he suddenly had a bashful expression on his face as he looked at her.

"We should kip in." Sulu said, wrapping his arm about Chekov's shoulders. "We're leaving first light, captain's orders."

Jim got to his feet with everyone else, but as they headed to the rooms they had booked in the tavern, he slowly staggered his way back to the ship. He hadn't even considered sleeping anywhere but in his hammock, and since he had no coin it seemed the logical option. He was barely half way however when two stunningly beautiful women with dirty blond hair and hardly any clothes barred his way.

"Hey gorgeous." One of them stroked a hand across his cheek. "Where are you going all alone?"

Jim took a shaky step backwards, realising he must have had more than he thought to drink. "No th-thank chu ma'am." He stuttered.

She pouted up at him as he friend circled about them. "Aww don't be like that." She cooed.

"I don't... I don't swing that way ma'am." Jim tried to push her away, but she was strong for a woman and before Jim knew what was going on he's been forced onto his backside in the bushes.

He released a hiss of pain from his back and behind, and then both the women were all over him. They were soft and smelt like wine and smoke, but Jim wasn't responding to any of their touches and they soon started to grow angry. He scrambled to get up, crawling out of the bushes, where Spock was standing on the path with a blank expression on his face.

"Oh a captain!" One of the women delighted.

Jim blushed deeply at Spock having caught him in such a position.

"Uh...hi, Captain."

"Mr Kirk." Spock raised one eyebrow. "It appears as though my original theory stands. The grief you felt for your mate is all but forgotten and you are already enjoying the pleasures of a man in our position."

Jim scrambled to his feet and brushed himself down, throwing the two women a dirty look as they walked off back towards the taverns. "Dey jum'ed me!" He slurred, blinking as Spock blurred momentarily.

Spock was unmoving. "Of course. The fault is not your own." He said, but it was obvious he didn't believe it.

Jim grunted and staggered in what he assumed was the general direction of the ship. He made it two steps and then passed out face first into the dirt.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating."

X

When Jim woke up, there was a scratchy blanket over him and a squishy pillow under his head. He burrowed into it with satisfaction and tried to ignoring the throbbing in his head. Luckily he didn't feel too nauseous, and so he smushed his face into the pillow again and tried to go back to sleep.

There was the rustle of sheets and then Jim realised that he was not alone. He twisted his head and opened one bleary eye. He was on the floor of a small tavern room. Sunlight was pouring in through the thin curtains hung on the window. The window was above a grand looking bed, and there was someone _in_ that bed. Jim shuffled up so he was sitting and realised that it was Spock. He was still asleep. Even in sleep, his face was smooth and expressionless, his hair neat. With his eyes closed, he looked almost peaceful rather than the harsh and unyielding Captain that Jim was accustomed to serving under.

Jim watched him for a few moments (privately wondering what the Captain would say to the thought that he actually looked quite _cute_) before shoving the blanket off and stealthily getting to his feet. He was still dressed, apart from his boots neatly placed by the door. Jim picked them up, opened the door and slipped out. After he had escaped the room, Spock opened his eyes and looked at the closed door thoughtfully.

The first person he bumped in to was Uhura, who unluckily had been making her way to the captain's room and saw him slip out of it. She halted in the centre of the corridor and folded her arms, raising her eyebrows. Jim felt his cheeks burn.

"Nothing happened!" He snapped, quietly, as he didn't know Spock was now awake.

Uhura tilted up her chin slightly. "And you just happened to accidentally sleep with the captain?"

"Hey!" He jabbed a finger towards her. "I passed out last night and woke up in there! He should be the one you're going on at!"

The woman's eyes flashed and she marched towards him. "You should remember your place Mr Kirk." She hissed, quietly, and then she glanced about. "Come on. We're buying supplies for when we leave this afternoon."

Uhura bustled him out of the tavern and onto the street, which looked very different from last night. The roads were free from drunks and women, and instead there were a few rickety wooden stalls selling fruit and vegetables and bread rolls and alcohol. Jim saw Chekov and Sulu faffing over a basket of crisp fresh looking apples while Scotty and Bones were examining a bottle of amber liquid and talking in a very excited way. Uhura pulled a small leather pouch from her belt.

"This is yours." She said, tossing it over. "I forgot to give it to you yesterday."

Jim opened it up to reveal a few coins, it wasn't much, barely enough for some scraps of food, but he forced a smile. "Thank you." He said.

She just fixed him with a look and walked off.

Jim rolled his eyes at her back and curled his hand around the coins. It wasn't much, but it was something. He headed to the bustling markets that covered the streets in the day. The idea of just not returning to the ship crossed his mind, but he was pretty sure Spock would have ordered a crew member to tail him - and he definitely didn't have enough money to catch a ship back to a Navy port. But if he could just lose the tail...

Jim passed stalls with strange trinkets, fruits that he had never seen and beautiful, rich cloths. Franklin would have loved this place. Jim pushed that thought away and instead bought a small paper bag of strawberries. He walked the markets eating them, they were juicy and ripe. The rest of the coins he shoved in the pouch and then into his pocket, aware of the skulking pickpockets that lurked the streets.

After a while, there was an insistent tapping at his shoulder.

"Meester Kirk. Meester Kirk, ze Captain is calling us back to ze ship."

"Oh joy." Jim replied, as flatly as he could manage, and he held out the last strawberry to the Russian, who's face lit up excitedly. "So who's been following me?" Jim glanced about, wrapping his arm over Chekov's shoulders so only he could hear.

"Um ze captain... I can't..." Chekov glanced about also.

"I won't say." Jim whispered, quieter. "I just want a little time to myself before we leave. Is that much to ask for?" He pouted a little. "I've been through a lot... losing Franklin and that..."

The boy blinked up at him. "Of course. I vill talk to him."

He disappeared off then, and Jim waited until he saw Chekov leaving with a man he didn't recognise, and then he broke into a run, and Jim was sure he had never ran as fast or as hard in his life. He raced through the village and into the forest that covered the rest of the island.

There was one small hut on the outskirts with its curtains drawn. Jim held his breath and began to shuffle alongside it before breaking into the forest, but a familiar voice caught his attention and so he dropped to the floor, holding his breath.

"...not long before we are next."

"You've done well so far, Spock. While you've ended up one step _behind_ the kraken so far it beats being killed by it."

Silence.

"Pike, we cannot live like this forever. The navy are strong enough but unwilling to believe that the kraken exists. And I cannot kill the beast alone."

"You're going to have to. No one here is willing to face that creature if they don't have to."

A sigh.

"I cannot beat in open sea. I need to get to its lair, I _need_ the map."

"I know where it is."

"Tell me."

Jim didn't want to hear anymore. He didn't want to have to face the possibility that Spock may very well be a good man at heart. He didn't want to think about facing that _nightmare_ again. He shuffled on his hands and knees until he was past the hut, and then he began to run.

He didn't move as fast as he had done before, his head replaying over and over what he had just heard, and he very almost didn't see the group of men skulking their way through the trees. Jim only just had enough time to duck behind a boulder before they saw him, and what he heard made his heart stop.

"I saw him, I tell yer!" One was exclaiming. "In that old farmer's hut."

Another one pulled a pistol from his belt and cocked it. "Le's get this over and done then. Get some torches goin'. We'll burn the fucker down!"

Jim waited until they passed right by before turning in the direction of the hut and racing back towards it. He had no idea what those men wanted Spock or Pike for, but he did know that if he didn't try and warn them they would die. For a moment he forgot about them being pirates. He forgot about the kraken. He forgot about Spock being Spock. But he didn't get there in time. The group of men were gathered about the hut when Jim reached it, and even some of the trees had caught alight from the blaze.

With a yell, Jim pulled the pistol from his belt and fired, killing two of the men, but he didn't have enough time to reload it before they were running at him. Jim ducked as a fist came at him, and he took hold of the man's arm and drove him so hard against the nearest tree that he broke his nose and slid to the ground in a bloody heap. The first man Jim had heard spoke came at him then brandishing a sword, narrowly missing his side, and Jim tripped over backwards to avoid being run through with the sword, but it worked in his favour. Jim kicked out so hard he heard something snap and the man fell, and Jim wrenched the sword from his grasp before pointing it to his throat.

The man waved a hand as his companions started forward. "Wait!" He ordered.

Jim narrowed his eyes.

"Wha's yer purpose boy?" The man snarled. "The hut is on fire. They're as good as dead."

He didn't wait around to hear anymore. Jim took hold of the sword with both hands and drive it through the man's chest. There were only three other men. Surely he could take them? As they all ran at him, Jim found himself ducking and spinning about and performing rolls, but he only managed to knock one more man unconscious before the sword was snatched off him. A fist connected with his face, and although his nose didn't break, blood trickled from it, momentarily fazing him. There was the sound of a gun being cocked, but before the man could shoot him, someone grabbed hold of him by the shoulder and he fell down as easily as though he'd been drugged.

Now there was only one man left standing, and all eyes were on Spock, who had somehow made it out of the burning hut alive along with an older man. Jim scrambled to his feet, wiping his hand over his nose in attempt to stem the bleeding. His first thought was that Spock was uninjured, he wasn't even smoldering around the edges, and Jim felt relief spread through him like warmth, but it didn't last long because in a last bid to finish the job, the only man left standing spun about and fired the gun. The bullet connected with Spock's thigh and he stumbled backwards, and the man ran off, followed hastily by Pike and leaving Jim on his own with the captain.

"Jesus Christ!" Jim ran to him.

Spock's face was a mask of calm, but there were beads of sweat on his forehead. Without pausing Jim pulled off his shirt and ripped it into strips with his teeth. He carefully bound the wound, not looking at the Captain but concentrating on stemming the flow of _green_ blood. When he had finished his hands were covered in it, but the bleeding was definitely slowing down. Jim slowly rose to his feet and looked at Spock.

"Why are you not on the ship?" Spock demanded, getting awkwardly to his feet.

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Oh your welcome. Yes I did just save your life."

"You were attempting to run away from The Enterprise." Spock hunched his shoulders.

"I give up." Jim threw up his arms. "I don't care if you're my captain or not, at least say thanks or something!" And he turned on his heel to walk away.

Spock grabbed hold of his elbow and pulled him round so forcibly it hurt, but Jim was too surprised to get angry at him because the captain's eyes had softened. Immediately Jim was taken back to two nights ago, when he had lost himself in those eyes, and he balled his hands and willed himself not get lost again.

"My gratitude." Spock said, his voice quiet and gentle.

Jim swallowed, a dark blush cross his cheeks, and he ripped his elbow free because he wasn't sure whether Spock could read his thoughts that way or if he could only do it by touching his face. He didn't want to risk it. The look on the captain's face suggested he had seen enough though and he suddenly stepped right up to Jim, and Jim didn't even realise he was standing so close to a tree and suddenly he was trapped up against it.

"Don't." He whispered, staring up into Spock's eyes pleadingly, noticing that instead of their usual black they were nearer a dark chocolate brown.

Spock raised one eyebrow, tilting his head to one side. "To what are you referring Mr Kirk?"

"Just don't touch me." Jim said, his voice wavering.

The captain stared at him hard, and then he held up one hand and brought it close to Jim's face, and he flinched, thinking that Spock was going to do his mind thing. Instead however he seemed to change his mind and stepped backwards again.

"Get back to the ship." He ordered, the softness in his eyes passing.

Jim nodded, suddenly aware that it was quite cold and he had no shirt, instead it was wrapped around Spock's thigh soaking up the blood. He shivered, wiped the green blood from his hands on his trousers and turned away.

"Captain." he said quietly.

Spock watched him go with an indiscernible expression shadowing his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Things were different after that. Spock spent a lot more time on deck, mostly standing at the helm with Sulu, but sometimes pacing about near the riggings. Jim was sure he was watching him, but if he was, the captain was being amazingly subtle about it. Maybe he was just being paranoid, Jim thought, as he sat in the crow's nest with Chekov. They had a large blanket wrapped about them both as the days had started getting shorter and colder, and the Russian was munching on an apple, passing it every now and then to Jim. It was a strange experience. Jim had been on the ship for a month now, and he had developed a love-hate relationship with the crew.

Part of him still hated everyone; the ship, the crew, his life, what had happened to him, his lack of Franklin, but he couldn't deny that everyone had just accepted him as one of their own. Bones had rapidly become like a brother to him, and every night they would sit up in the riggings together sipping rum or wine and just talking. Sulu and Chekov were always talking to him, and even Uhura had started being nicer, although only when they were alone and never in front of the captain. He hadn't spoken to Spock since that day on the island, and Spock hadn't talk to him, not even about what he had heard in the hut, and Jim wished to keep it that way.

Jim bit into the apple and handed it back. "D'you know where we're going yet?"

Chekov shrugged. "Ze keptin has said only north." He said, finishing the apple and tossing the core as hard as he could into the sea.

Jim sighed. "Fair enough. D'you know anything about some map? To fight the kraken?"

The Russian looked round at him with wide eyes. "Chto?"

"Yeah I overheard him talking to this Pike guy about some map." Jim shrugged. "Sounds like trouble."

Chekov grinned, "Aye, it is always trouble on the _Enterprise_."

Jim couldn't help chuckling and grinning back. As far as he could tell, Chekov was right. Wherever trouble was, the _Enterprise_ followed. Or else they were ordered to _start_ the trouble in the first place. For such a serious man the Captain got up to a lot of mischief.

As if Spock had heard their gossiping, his voice echoed across the deck, almost snatched away by the cold wind.

"Attention, crew! All non essential members on deck, _now_."

Jim glanced at Chekov and they scrambled down. The rigging was like a second home to Jim now, and he couldn't ever imagine falling from them. Scotty would shudder every time he was ordered to check the sails, and more than once he had watched Jim scurry over the ropes with a vaguely terrified expression.

Their boots hit the deck with simultaneous thunks and they joined Uhura and the rest of the crew crowded around Spock. Even Uhura looked curious, and Jim realised that actually he may be the only person on board except Spock to know even a tiny bit of what was going on. Spock glanced at Jim's vibrant blue eyes before he spoke.

"I am sure you are all wondering what our purpose is sailing these northern waters. While we have been following the kraken's path of destruction, we have so far not been able to predict where it will hit next. We are also in the dark as to how it selects its victims. Regarding this, I made a visit during our time at port."

Jim was sure he was the only one who noticed the flicker of worry flash across Spock's face.

"We are heading towards the location of a map that will lead us to the kraken's lair. It will be dangerous, as the map is guarded - but what these dangers are I cannot say."

There was a moment of silence before Uhura spoke.

"Are you tell me we're heading straight into something, and you don't know what?" She snapped, and it was obvious she was holding her anger in.

Spock turned towards her. "Most definitely. However this task is necessary if we are to continue surviving aboard the Enterprise. Save we retreat onto land and go our separate ways."

There was a murmur about the crew as they obviously didn't like this option.

Uhura balled her hands into fists. "Then I am with you until the end captain." She nodded.

This was followed by more murmurs, and a few 'here, here's and then Spock ordered the crew to return to their jobs. Jim released a low sigh and turned towards the riggings, but he had barely reached them when he became very aware of Spock standing not two paces behind him, an odd expression on his face.

"You will follow me." He ordered, his tone suggesting he didn't have a choice.

Once they were in his cabin, Spock offered Jim a chair and then a glass of wine, but remembering what happened last time he drank the captain's wine, Jim politely refused and instead folded his arms.

"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows.

Spock did not sit, but stood close to the chair, looking down his nose at Jim and his black eyes softening into brown. "I am sure you have realised by now that I overheard you listening to my conversation with Christopher Pike." He said. "My hearing is unlike a human's."

Jim pursed his lips. "So, you actually are an alien?"

To his surprise, Spock flinched a little. "I am a different species to you Mr Kirk."

"Sound's like alien to me..." Jim trailed off.

Spock had leant down towards him, his hands resting on the arm, just like he had done that night. It took all of Jim's will power not to look up into his eyes.

"Fascinating." Spock whispered, a hint of smugness to his voice. "I have an effect on you."

Jim rolled his eyes and managed to speak without his voice shaking, "Well you already knew _that_."

Spock raised an eyebrow with amusement and to his surprise, Jim grinned at him before stretching luxuriously.

"Is that all, Captain?"

"No. I wish to commend you on your good work while serving upon my ship. While we have had..._disagreements_, you are a valuable asset to our crew. That is all, dismissed Mr Kirk."

Jim blinked.

"I'm a what now?"

Spock didn't roll his eyes, but Jim bet that he wanted to.

"You heard me. _Dismissed_."

Jim grinned impertinently and left. "Wait, wait, wait, I'm a what?"

"As you have demonstrated before Mr Kirk, your hearing is of an impeccable standard, and I do believe you heard me." Spock said, and he walked about his desk and sat down, interlocking his fingers on the desk. "You are making a habit of challenging me Mr Kirk."

Jim pursed his lips, his eyes flashing playfully.

"And yet, when you were first dragged onto this ship you were nothing more than a crying boy." Spock continued.

Immediately Jim's face hardened.

"You forget I have peered into your very being Mr Kirk." Spock raised one eyebrow. "I have seen who you are."

"Who I am is none of your business." Jim snapped. "And you forget, I saw something of you as well, remember."

Spock frowned at this. "I remember. I am curious as to how you accomplished that."

"Fuck do I know." Jim threw up his hands. "Some freaky ass shit, that was."

The captain's lips quirked a little. "You are feeling more comfortable aboard my ship, I see, and more confident in your manner." He said. "And you are dealing with the loss of your mate?"

"That has nothing to do with-"

"Am I not allowed to show concern for my crew?"

Jim ground his teeth. "So that's what this is? Concern?" He got to his feet and smartened his shirt. "I'll be going now. Captain." He mock saluted and turned towards the door.

"Mr Kirk." Spock called after him, rising to his feet. Jim halted, but did not turn. "I am truly sorry I could not save him as well as you."

Jim let out a shaky breath.

"Thank you."

X

Jim replayed that conversation over and over for the next week. Lying in his hammock, twirling coins won at cards in-between his fingers. He had gathered quite a stash of money, hidden in a loose floorboard he'd found in Bones' infirmary. Bones had watched him hide it away and said nothing, a silent understanding passing between them. Jim knew that even if he were to escape now there was no way he could turn the crew of the _Enterprise_ in. Because despite everything, he knew that Spock was a good man.

Working on the deck started to become cold and uncomfortable, the sea was harsh and cold and more than once Jim found himself nearly stumbling to his death from the rigging. Being doused in the spray of the ocean was horrific and cold and Bones had confined him to the infirmary for a week after he had been unable to stop shivering after a particularly large wave had soaked him to his skin.

Spock stood like a statue at the helm alongside Sulu as he directed them towards their destination. The crew was tense, none more than Spock himself, and Jim realised that sending his whole ship and crew into almost certain danger was not something that sat well with the Captain.

"Do you think we can stop this thing?" He asked Bones, the next time he saw him.

The doctor threw up his hands. "No idea kid. Damn captain's probably going to get us all killed."

Jim chuckled a little. "You know he apologised to me for not being able to save Franklin. About a week ago."

"What the-" Bones' raised his eyebrow. "Spock has never apologised for anything, not to my knowledge."

Jim grinned. "Maybe I'm just special."

Bones grunted in response.

"You're something, kid."

Jim rolled his eyes and left the Doctor. He was off duty now, and he couldn't deny that he was really looking forwards to having some sleep. Sulu stood alone at the helm now, Chekov wrapped in a blanket by one side clutching a steaming mug of broth. Jim hurried by them and went to the cabin, kicking off his boots before curling into a ball on his hammock. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep; the movement of the boat rocking him comfortingly, however it was a fitful sleep, plagued with dreams of memories that were not his.

_X_

_All around him was desert. Reddish sand with an orange sun beating down on his skin. It felt good, he felt strong. He felt like he was home. The air was still, but he was not afraid. There was no water, no sea creature to drag him to death here. _

_There was a voice behind him, a woman's voice. He turned around to face her._

_Her face softened, she held her hands out towards him and brushed his cheekbones with her fingers._

_"Spock. You look wonderful."_

_A feeling of love and longing blossomed in his chest._

_ X_

_He stood in front of the woman again. His clothes were itchy and uncomfortable and there was a distinct nervousness in the pit of his stomach. As the woman smiled and held out her hands, he stepped towards her and allowed her to embrace him._

_"I cannot believe it. My son, working aboard a Royal Navy ship! I am so proud of you Spock."_

_His lips moved of their own accord._

_"Gratitude, Mother."_

_X_

_Darkness now, and a scene that was all too familiar. He was on the deck of a ship, a storm was raging overhead, and there were screams coming from everywhere. He saw the woman from before, and she was running towards him across the deck and shouting, but there was so much noise he couldn't hear what she was saying. He started towards her, as quickly as his shaking legs would allow, slipping and sliding across the wet blood-stained wood, and then large tentacles burst upwards out of the water._

_They wrapped about the ship, squeezing it and breaking it. Men slithered into the sea, which was foaming and black, and he looked upwards towards Spock's Mother but it was too late. A free tentacle had grabbed hold of her. He screamed in a voice that was not his own. Fear and pain ripped through his chest until he couldn't bear it anymore. She was gone; dead; murdered by the Kraken. He felt anger and hate and an overwhelming loss and then-_

_X_

Jim awoke with a scream, toppling out of his hammock and hitting the floor with a hard thud. Uhura was crouched over him, her face filled with worry, and a crowd had gathered about him. Jim was drenched with sweat, shaking and panting, and there were tears on his face, and he couldn't describe the mix of feelings choking him. They still weren't his.

"Kirk, Kirk, _breathe_!"

Jim obeyed without thinking, taking in a rasping breath and then another. His heart, that had been hammering in his chest, began to slow and the world came back to him.

"Fuck." he said, intelligently.

Uhura rolled her eyes, but she seemed relieved and helped him to stand.

"Come on, you look like you need a drink."

Jim snorted. "More than one."

He leant heavily on Uhura as she led him above deck his legs shaking still. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and composed himself.

_What the hell had that been?_

Those hadn't been his memories. Those had been Spock's - like the time he had inadvertently entered Spock's mind when he had first come on the ship.

But how was he having nightmares and dreams of his Captain's life? It made no sense. Uhura pressed a bottle into Jim's hand and he drunk it gratefully.

"Uhura." Came the Captain's voice all of a sudden.

They both halted and spun about. Spock was standing at the door to his cabin, wearing only lose trousers; his smooth chest glistening with sweat as though he had been working out. He was slightly breathless too and his usual calm exterior was nowhere to be seen. Instead he looked frightened, angry and panicked.

"Give him to me." He ordered.

"But Captain-"

"_Uhura!_"

She gave him a curt nod and supported Jim over to the half-naked Captain, who took a painfully tight grip on his upper arm and forced him into his cabin. As soon as the door was closed Jim was pushed roughly up against a wall and held there by Spock's arm, which he pressed to his throat.

"I demand you tell me how you did that!" He hissed.

Jim bit back the anger curling in his stomach.

"I don't know what you're _talking _about."

Spock removed his arm but still towered over Jim menacingly.

"I will not ask you again."

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but instead shoved past Spock to a tatty looking vase that had been taken from the last pirate ship and threw up in it. He rested his head on the wall, willing his stomach to stop churning with a phantom pain that was not his own.

"I don't _know_." Jim said. "Funnily enough, having horrific nightmares is not something I do on purpose and I have enough fucking trauma in my past to deal with without feeling _yours_ as well."

There was silence, and Jim wondered if he'd crossed the line.

Spock took hold of his throat again, this time with his hand, and he lifted Jim right up into the air before slamming him down onto the desk. Paper scattered to the floor and a candle was snuffed out, and Jim cried out in pain. Though the wounds on his back were healed, they were still tender. He grabbed hold of Spock's arm, but his grip was vice like and unyielding. It wasn't long before his vision was blurring with the need to breathe.

"Spo...ck..." He tried. "Sp..."

Instead he reached up and touched the Captain's face, cupping his jaw in a way that he hoped was comforting. It was obvious that whatever had happened between them had frightened Spock, and Jim was hoping that he could calm him down. The Captain glared down at him menacingly, and it seemed to take forever for his eyes to soften to brown.

"I-It's... al...right..." Jim choked; the man's grip was still just as strong.

Jim could see black spots dancing in his vision. As he tried to breathe, he remembered another time like this and suddenly he was sinking in the heavy darkness of his own past.

_He is being held under water in the bathtub. He tries to suck in air, tries to breathe but all that he sucks into his lungs is dirty water that burns his throat. He is eleven years old, and there are rough, cruel hands squeezing his throat as he drowns. He kicks and thrashes but he is not strong enough, and he is going to die in this rusty tub in a place that he calls home_

_X_

_His mother won't look at him anymore. She tells him that he has taken away _his_ eyes, and he knows she means his father. Eyes like the ocean, eyes that make his mother die a little more inside every time she sees them. So after a while, she stops looking. Her eyes are for his brother only, his brother with harmless grey eyes and Frank gives him sweets and teaches him to ride a horse even as Jim sits alone in the yard. He breaks a plate one time, and his brother slips away as Frank takes his belt to the back of Jim's legs, and ignores the screams and the blood running onto the floor._

_X_

_He closes his eyes and tries to wish himself away. There are strange, unfamiliar hands pulling at his skin, an unknown voice murmuring empty words into the skin of his back. His face is pushed into the pillow and he tries so very hard not to cry. He is fifteen. It is the first time that he has sold himself, and after the man has left, he is sick over and over again. He gets into the sea and tries to wash the pain away, wades out so he is too deep in the waves but he can't do it, he can't because the water filling his nose scares him._

_It isn't any easier the next time, or the next and even after a year he still cries into the pillow. The pain isn't in his body anymore, it's in his heart and he can't work out how to fix it. Sometimes he is tied down, and there are cuts on his wrists and his ankles. A few times he has been held down and whipped, and the scars fade from his skin but not from his mind. Even as he lies on the bed with the sheets stained sticky red with blood, it is his heart that hurts the most._

_He wants to find home._

_X_

_He has found some sort of home with Franklin, in the kisses and the smiles but neither of those come easily. There is still something missing, a hole in his heart that no one on this Earth has been able to touch and Jim wonders if it will ever be filled or if he is going to be alone forever. _

_He doesn't want to die alone._

Jim was jerked back into reality with a force that was not his own. The hand had fallen from Jim's neck. Jim lay on the desk, taking in rasping breaths (_like he had so many other times_). The cabin was utterly silent. Jim felt the shame creeping into his throat. He had never told anyone about his childhood, about any of it and yet Spock was able to open him up and spill every secret he had ever wanted to keep.

The Captain extended a trembling hand and wiped a finger over Jim's cheek, which was wet with tears. Jim flinched at the touch, the memories still fresh in his mind, and he rolled himself off of the table, landing with a heavy thud. He couldn't move. His limbs were shaking too much. It felt as though something was eating away at his very soul and it hurt, god-damn it_ hurt_.

Spock dropped to his knees beside him with a blanket in his arms, and he wrapped it about Jim until all that could be seen of him were his bare toes sticking out the bottom. Jim closed his eyes against the darkness and drunk in the scent of the soft material. It smelt like smoke and incense. Like the Captain.

He is back on the ship. The memories begin to fade. His limbs still and he can breathe again. Jim sniffed and wiped his cheeks.

"If it is to your preference," Spock suddenly said, in a voice that suggested he had regained himself. "you may reside on the floor of my cabin tonight."

No more was said. Spock stood up and went into his bedroom, and when Jim pulled the blanket off his face, he saw that Spock had left the door open. Jim sat there in silence for a long time, wondering. Something had changed, something had started between them and there was no way of going back now. Jim took a stealthy swig of the whisky sitting on Spock's desk and then went into the bedroom. He curled up at the foot of the bed, and it took a long time for him to sleep.

Whenever a nightmare started, whenever the feel of Frank's hands tightening around his throat began, they always faded. Replaced by the soft touches of a mother that was not his, and Jim didn't know whether he was thankful or angry that Spock was inside his head.

X

When Jim woke in the morning, he didn't know where he was for a moment. He blinked blearily and sat up with a yawn. Then he remembered.

He pushed away the doubt in his mind. He was tired of being afraid, of feeling like he was in the wrong all the time. His mother...when they _had_ been close, the one thing she always told him was that his father had been a brave man. And dammit, Jim was going to live up to that now.

Spock was still asleep. Jim nearly went to him, but hesitated. Whatever was going on, whatever weird _connection_ they had, Spock understood the implications better than he did, and Spock wasn't telling. Jim roughly straightened his hair and went to go and get some breakfast.

The last pirate ship they had raided had been well stocked, and so the crew was treated to a special meal of salty bacon and eggs with hunks of dark bread and skins of good wine.

"Got to keep morale up," Uhura muttered in his ear, "The closer we get to that map, the edgier the crew is getting. We can smell danger, and we're heading straight into the heart of it."

Jim finished his breakfast and instead of worrying about his impending doom, focused on how nice it was to have a plate of good food. He wiped up the bacon grease and egg yolk with the bread, tossing the plate over to the cook and feeling more full than he had in ages. Spock had not come out of his cabin yet.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Jim piled another plate full of food and headed towards the Captain's quarters when no one was looking. He didn't quite escape the eyes of Bones though, who rolled his eyes with a peculiar smile teasing at the edge of his mouth.

Jim knocked gently on the open bedroom door, balancing the plate on his other hand.

"Captain?"

The door swung open and Spock stepped out, a dark shirt pulled over his trousers and his boots and belt back on, but not his coat or hat. He looked strange without them, less captain-y and less daunting. His face had returned to its usual expressionlessness, his eyes were black again, and even though they didn't soften to brown, they did look kinder at the sight of Jim carrying food.

"I thought you might...umm be hungry?" Jim pulled a face. He felt like a right idiot.

Spock took the plate from him without a word and sat at his desk, reorganizing the books and paper that had been thrown about from last night, before beginning to eat. Jim watched him awkwardly for a few moments, feeling like he should speak but finding no words, and so in the end he simple sank into the other chair. He could hear people trampling about above them, and through the window he could see that even though it was day it was quite dark, as though a storm was coming.

"We are almost there." Spock suddenly said, as though he had been reading his thoughts. "The map is almost within our grasp."

Jim hunched his shoulders. He still didn't know what to say.

"Why are you still in my cabin?" Spock asked, once he had finished his food. "Do you not have a job to be doing?"

Jim's smile became bitter and he gave Spock a mock salute.

"Yessir."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

There was no telling day from night anymore. The clouds had thickened into a black blanket that covered the sky. They had not seen the sun for a week, and electric blue lightening shuddered through the clouds constantly. At first the growling thunder had made the crew jump, but now it had faded into a continuous background noise. Keeping the ship steady and sailing in the right direction was taking everything the crew had. Four men had already fallen to their deaths from the rigging, the ropes slick from the rain that poured down.

Jim had nearly fallen twice, but had managed to catch himself. The second time he had dislocated his shoulder and spent half an hour off duty while Bones popped it back into the socket. He didn't let Bones keep him for any longer - he was the best man they had on the rigging and he couldn't afford to let another inexperienced crew member take his place and maybe fall to their death.

He didn't remember the last time he had slept for more than a couple of hours.

They still didn't know exactly where they were going, however a few crew members started to speculate as soon as huge hanging rocks appeared jutting out of the ocean. One or two claimed to have heard the most beautiful singing carried across the wind, even though nothing but black water and rock could see seen for miles, and then quite suddenly one of the man threw himself overboard for no apparent reason.

Jim had spent hours scouring the sea from his perch up in the sails but he never saw anything.

That night - or what he supposed was night, Spock called him into his cabin. Drenched in rain and salt water from the churning ocean, Jim heaved himself into the cabin. He was so tired he could hardly see straight.

"You asked for me?"

Spock stared at him with what could only be described as concern, and it seemed to take a moment for him to recover himself. "Doctor McCoy had informed me that you are refusing to rest, even after dislocating your shoulder." He said.

Jim frowned. "But..."

"If we are to reach our destination in one piece then we must all be as fully rested as possible." Spock continued, "We do not yet know what we are running in to."

"I see." Jim wiped his dripping hair out of his eyes and wrapped his arms about him.

To his surprise, Spock went through to his bedroom, coming back seconds later with a blanket. Jim recognised it as the one he had slept under at the foot of Spock's bed that night. Without thinking, Jim pulled off his soaking wet shirt and wrapped the blanket about his half-naked form. It was warm and soft and smelt so good and Jim closed his eyes and made an appreciative sound.

"I wish to discuss with you the proceedings of that night Mr Kirk." Spock said, straightening and clasping his hands behind his back.

Jim sighed and slumped into the nearest chair.

"Do we really have to?"

"I wish to examine your mind." Spock said, as though he hadn't heard him. "There is something I must determine. Know that if you refuse I am capable of overpowering you."

Jim felt a shiver down his spine as he remembered their night of passion. Then it was replaced with a shudder of anger.

"Haven't you done _enough _poking around my head? Seriously, Spock give me a break. You have seen enough, I don't..." Jim stared intently at the wooden desk, "I don't want you looking around at my memories anymore, okay? _Please_."

"You misunderstand." The Captain raised a single eyebrow. "I do not wish to examine your memories. Only your mind."

Jim sighed.

"Fine. Not like I can stop you anyway, can I?"

A small smile quirked at the corner of Spock's lips, and he took a step towards Jim, moving to stand behind the chair and before Jim knew what was happening he felt long tender fingers placed to his face. There was a jolt, much more powerful than all the other times, but unlike the last times Jim didn't see any memories; not his own and not Spock's. Instead there was just blinding white. He screwed up his face and tried to pull away, when suddenly he heard something echoing at the back of his mind.

_Do not try to fight my presence_. It was Spock.

_I'm trying. Is this meant to hurt? _Jim could feel his body still, hands clenched tightly into fists against the white hot pain searing in his mind.

_It is because you are trying to resist me. You must open your mind to me._

Jim bit down hard on his lip, concentrating on his breathing. He could feel Spock inside his head, like fingers reaching through him, taking him apart and putting him back together again. It seemed to go on for hours, when in reality it was only minutes, and just when Jim thought he was going to unravel and pass out the pain lessened and he saw a flash of warm golden light. As soon as he saw it Spock released him, taking a few steps backwards. Jim looked round at him with wide eyes.

"What was _that_?"

Spock sat down in his chair heavily, his eyes dark brown and looking at anything but Jim.

"Get out." He ordered breathlessly. "I said get out!"

Jim staggered to his feet, grabbing his blanket and his shirt and running out onto the deck. As the door slammed shut behind him, Jim made himself a promise to never _ever_ trust Spock again. He had opened his fucking mind to him, Spock had seen more of him than anyone else had and he acted as though it was Jim's damn fault for obeying him and letting him into his head.

Jim clambered back up into the rigging, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder and Spock's demands that he should rest. He wondered what it would be like to slip, what it would be like to fall.

_Stop it, Jim_. He told himself sternly. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it right. And he would endure any punishment Spock threw at him, but there was no way in hell he was ever going to speak to the Captain again. Enough was enough. He settled into the crow's nest, watching the dark waters below.

X

He must have fallen asleep, but the next thing Jim knew, Chekov was half way up the riggings shouting his name. Jim jumped to his feet, and immediately swore. At some point a storm had hit them. He must have been more exhausted than he thought if he'd slept through it, because it was a bad one. Everything was wet, the crew soaked to the bone, and if Jim hadn't reached out just at the right moment the young Russian would have slipped right overboard.

"Meester Kirk!" Chekov clung to him desperately. "Ve must secure the sails!"

Jim went for the nearest knot, his feet slipping on the wet ropes. Thunder crackled overhead, louder than before and a surge of wind gusted, tipping the _Enterprise_. Jim yelled as he was flung from the ropes, fingers brushing the material of the sails. By some miracle he managed to find some grip, grasping at a loose rope and jerking to a stop.

It was then that he noticed the silence.

The sky was pale, no clouds in sight. The crew looked up in amazement and Jim carefully climbed back down onto the deck.

"I see land, Captain!" Sulu called.

"Get away from the railings." Uhura suddenly ordered, in a hushed voice, and she drew her sword.

Several crew members looked at her with frowns, but then everybody turned back to the lagoon because the singing they had heard before started up again. It filled the air like a choir of angels, and even Uhura lowered her sword with a dreamy smile on her face. Scotty limped over to the railings, leaning right over and staring down into the water with a dazed expression on his face.

"Look, Captain!" He whispered in awe.

Staring up at them out of the water was the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen. Only her bare shoulders and her head was visible, and she had flawless dark green skin dotted with freckles and long sleek black hair that danced in the water all about her. Instantly every crew member ran to the railings and leaned over them, as several more heads popped up. A redhead, two blonds, all of them with dark green skin.

Jim frowned down at them, and backed away from the railing. Spock pushed past him and looked over the side, leaning out so far that Jim thought that he might even fall.

"They are mermaids," he said, "They...they..."

Spock's voice drifted into silence. The dread that had been settled in Jim's chest since the storm finished increased. He pressed his back to the reassuring solid wood of the main mast.

It was like the crew had become tranced, enchanted. Some of them shook their heads and backed away with Jim, but two threw themselves overboard and were dragged down into the water by the mermaids, and then another, and then three more. Jim ran forward and started to try and shake the trance out of them, calling for his crew men to help. It seemed to work. They were still in a dazed state, but they pulled away clumsily from the railings. Jim heard Uhura shout, and he spun about to see where she was looking.

Spock had climbed onto the railings, holing onto a rope for support but swaying dangerously. Jim's heart leapt into his throat and when he tried to shout, nothing came. He broke into a run, darting this way and that through the crowd, but he was just a second too late. Spock threw off his coat and hat and dived perfectly into the ocean. Without even pausing to think, Jim dived in after him. Despite the sudden sunshine, the water was as cold as ice and Jim was momentarily shocked, his body contorting, and he started to believe that everything was just a hallucination, and that it was still very much winter. The water was so dark he could barely see anything, as he swam deeper, he started to see shapes swimming about him.

Frank's face swum up in front of him and Jim's fear of drowning returned in full force.

_No. Got to save Spock._

Spock was being dragged down by two of the mermaids, one curling her hands around his neck and squeezing tightly. Spock's eyes were clouded over, confused. Jim reached out for one of his hands, howling as a mermaid sunk fanged teeth into his shoulder. He kicked at the heads of those holding Spock, the water making his movements sluggish and weak.

He could see Spock breathing in lungfuls of salt water, and something inside Jim snapped.

He pulled his pistol from its holster and bashed the mermaids as hard as he could. They shrieked, almost bursting Jim's eardrums but he could see their grip loosening. He jerked Spock as hard as he could, pushing him towards the surface. The other mermaid still had her teeth in Jim's shoulder, tearing his skin from the bone with a savageness that did not match her pretty face. Jim pulled at her hair, ripping a chunk out.

And then they were gone.

Lungs bursting for air, Jim kicked up to the surface where Sulu was waiting to pull him out. Spock lay motionless on the deck, Bones pumping at his heart and breathing air into his lungs. His eyes were closed, his skin deathly pale, a string of dark bruises around his throat.

"Holy shit, what happened to _you_?" Uhura breathed, touching Jim's arm. His right shoulder was drenched in blood, the pale white of bone showing.

"I"m fine," he rasped, "Spock?"

Uhura shook her hair, her eyes full of fear.

"Where is he?" Jim demanded, ignoring the strange looks he was getting, as the entire crew was still gathered on deck.

He pushed his way to where Spock was lying and pressed his ear to the Captain's chest. He wasn't breathing. But Jim could feel something. There was something in the back of his mind telling him that Spock was alive. He grabbed hold of the Captain's nose and chin and pressed together their mouths, breathing out deeply, pulling away, doing it again, passing air into Spock's lungs. Bones appeared by his side, placing a firm hand to his uninjured shoulder.

"Jim. He's-"

Spock's body arched and he made a strangled gasping sound, his eyes flying open, the brownest Jim had ever seen them. He rolled onto his stomach and coughed, retching out the salty water from his lungs and trying to get as much oxygen i as possible, and the entire crew erupted into cheers. bones dropped to his knees and clutched at Spock'e shoulders, supporting him, but the Captain had eyes only for Jim.

Jim didn't want to meet those brown eyes, and so let Bones drag him away to bandage up his shoulder.

"Jesus, kid. What the _hell_ happened?"

Jim spoke through gritted teeth as Bones wrapped the bandage around his shoulder.

"Some mermaid thought I'd make a nice _snack_."

Bones raised his eyebrows.

"I'll say. This is going to take a while to heal, Jim, she literally ripped your flesh from the bone so there's no way you can get on the rigging-"

"Doctor. I wish to speak to Mr Kirk, alone."

Bones pointed at Spock, "You be careful or I'll strap you to one of these infirmary beds."

He left, shutting the door behind him. Spock sat on the send of the bed that Jim was lying on, currently slurping down a large amount of wine to try and make his shoulder hurt less. When Jim looked up, he saw that Spock's eyes were warm and brown.

"You... saved my life." Spock stated, in a way that suggested he couldn't believe it.

"And look where that fucking got me!" Jim snapped, his pain making him slightly delirious. He closed his eyes, covering them with his free hand. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm just a little pissed about the fact that some chick just ripped half my shoulder off."

"Why?" Spock's voice was soft.

"Why did I save you? Because despite _everything_ you've done, I don't...I don't just let people die. That's not who I am. And I'm not doing it to be brave or for any kind of gratitude so save it. Can we just...if I hadn't have gone in, someone else would have!"

"This is untrue. You were...you were the only one of the crew seemingly unaffected by those creatures."

Jim sighed.

"You tell me why _you_ were and maybe I'll share why I think their creepy siren shit didn't work on me."

Spock blinked at him, taken aback, his eyes the same as they had been when he'd regained consciousness; the most human Jim had ever seen them.

"I believe, because of the nature of my kind, because we bury and shield our emotions, that I was more affected." He said at long last.

"Who did you see?" Jim said softly.

"I believe you said you would answer _my _question, Mr Kirk."

Jim smiled bitterly. "All the myths about mermaids say that they take on a form of someone you love to tempt you over the side so they can drown you. But I haven't got anyone left. No one to tempt me, because they've either left me, or they're dead."

Spock was silent.

"I saw my mother, Mr Kirk." he said finally, almost inaudibly. "And...I am sorry for-"

"Don't be sorry. If I hadn't been immune, you'd be dead."

Jim removed the hand from over his face and looked at Spock in the eyes. Spock didn't look angry, or cruel or like he was going to hurt Jim. But then, he had thought that before and look what had happened. Jim thunked the bottle of wine down.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally, "Drowning sucks."

Spock got to his feet and smartened his wet clothes, and Jim couldn't help but noticed how the shirt clung to his stomach and chest muscles. "I shall live." He said, in a way that suggested the conversation was over.

"Wait." Jim heaved himself painfully into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Answer me one more question... how did I know? When I dragged you out of the water, Uhura shook her head; we all thought you were dead but... I just knew you weren't. How?"

"I will not discuss that here." Spock said. "You will remain with Doctor McCoy and rest. I must make my way into the mermaid lagoon to search for the map. When I return, then I will speak with you. I shall have Uhura send for you when I am ready."

"Surely I should come too. In case you decide to try and _drown_ yourself again."

"You are injured, Mr Kirk."

"I wasn't the one getting resuscitated ten minutes ago, _Captain_."

They glared at each other for a moment, but Spock's eyes were still dark brown and not black, and Jim felt unafraid. He stood up, facing Spock with determination, ignoring the constant pain of his shoulder.

"I'm _coming_, whether you want me to or not." Jim said slowly, and he squared up to Spock, even though he wasn't quite as tall.

Something flashed across Spock's face. "I have given you a direct order Mr Kirk."

"Well, I'm not _following _your order." Jim pursed his lips.

Spock suddenly drove him hard against the bed, his eyes now their usual black, his hand hovering over Jim's injured arm but not actually touching it, as though just threatening to hurt him. Jim felt fear shoot through him like a bullet, and he tried to get away but the bed was digging into his spine and Spock was pressed up against him. Jim could feel the Captain's belt, his wet shirt, his toned abdomen, all of it, and to his horror his fear turned into arousal. He lowered his gaze, preying that Spock wouldn't notice.

"If you go down there by yourself and something goes wrong, you're going to end up with the whole crew jumping overboard." he hissed through gritted teeth.

"I will not be spoken to in such a manner. I am your _Captain_!" Spock's grip on him tightened, only instead of clutching at his torn shoulder, he clutched at Jim's waist; one hand wrapped about his upper arm and the other about his middle, almost as though he didn't want to injure him further.

Jim noticed this. "Are you trying to protect me, or something?" He snapped. "Because I don't need your pity! I've managed to take perfect care of myself so far!"

"The simple fact is that you are injured Mr Kirk. You would be a liability more than an asset, and I-" He stopped.

Jim froze, because the Captain was pressing up against him so hard it was obvious what he had just felt to make him stop so suddenly.

"Well, this is awkward." Jim rolled his eyes. "Are you going to get off of me anytime soon? Or we might have a problem."

Spock blinked at him, seemingly unsure of what to do next, and Jim suddenly felt something warm pulsate at the back of his mind, like it had done when he'd known Spock wasn't dead. This time however it was pleasurable, and Jim's body involuntarily shuddered. Spock released him and took a step backwards.

"My apologies, Mr Kirk."

Jim ignored the blush that he knew was colouring his cheeks.

"Seriously, Spock. If you get trapped on that island by mermaids again, they'll take the whole ship. You know that, and even if I _am _immune I can't save the whole goddamn crew by myself."

Spock stared at him.

"Take me _with_ you." Jim asked, his blue eyes burning up at Spock.

There was another small pleasurable jolt, and Spock turned his back on him, a hand clutched to his mouth. "You may do as you wish." He said, but his voice sounded off, wavering slightly, and then he marched from the room.

Jim decided that that was a definite victory to him and got up, checking his pistol and the sharpness of the knife he had at his belt. He had given up on the idea of carrying a sword, he was terrible at swordplay anyway. He strode out of the room after Spock, wincing at the bright sunlight. Apparently after sailing for weeks in eternal night, they now had to deal with eternal daytime. Jim wasn't sure which one was more irritating.

Spock was standing by while the crew pulled down one of the rowing boats. He glanced at Jim as he stood by his side.

"Where is your sword, Mr Kirk?"

Jim shrugged. "Have you ever seen me use a sword? I'm fucking _awful_. Not even...no one has managed to teach me so-" he trailed off. Franklin had tried to teach Jim more than once, but even he had been impatient with Jim's clumsiness and given up teaching him.

"The use of a sword is necessary for surviving on the sea Mr Kirk." Spock said, matter-of-factly. "I shall teach you, as soon as your arm is healed."

Something near to a lump appeared in Jim's throat. "What?"

But Spock did not repeat himself and climbed into the rowing boat. Jim grumbled to himself and sat opposite Spock as the crew lowered the boat into the water. He took the oars in his hands, the wood smooth and well worn. He wondered idly how long Spock had been sailing on the _Enterprise_. Spock took the other pair of oars.

"It will be quicker if we both row." he said. Jim shrugged, and surprisingly they settled into a smooth rhythm almost right away. The oars dipped into the water cleanly, and soon they sped away from the _Enterprise_. Jim was thankful that the waters were calm, though the eerie silence was setting his teeth on edge. He couldn't see any mermaids.

They passed through the gap in the black rocks and into the lagoon beyond, where it was even calmer. There was no wind and the only movement on the water was from their oars. Spock and Jim rowed up to the white beach and climbed out. Jim looked to his Captain.

"What now? Where's this map?"

"From the myths I have studied, it is said to be in the centre of the island."

Jim sighed. "Of course it is. Lead on then."

The island was beautiful, but deadly. The exotic flowers that bloomed dripped colorless poison that sunk into the soil and the tiny pools of water. Spock had ended up slicing a monkey in half who had seemed harmless until it opened its mouth to reveal hundreds of tiny, razor sharp teeth.

What was the most bizarre was how time seemed to move differently. The sun had risen and set twice while they'd been on the island, and they both _felt_ as though they had been walking for two days, but both of them knew that it hadn't been that long. It didn't matter though. They hadn't anticipated _this_ and so the two skins of water they had brought with them were both nearly empty. They had tried to eat some of the plants but all that had happened was Jim spent an hour throwing up blood, and Spock passed out.

As far as quests went, this one was _not_ going well.

"How much further do you reckon?" Jim asked, refusing to acknowledge the dry thirst on his tongue. There was no water here that was not either poisoned or salty.

Spock looked at him, exhaustion obvious on his face. The more time they had spent on the island, the less he had apparently tried to hide his emotions. "Not long now. How is your shoulder?"

Jim looked sideways, not even realising that his bandages were stained and crusty with blood. He was so hungry and thirsty that he hadn't even realised the pain. "I'll live. Let's just carry on."

"Are you quite sure?" Concern clouded Spock's brown eyes. Jim nodded. He knew if he stopped now there was no way he'd ever manage to get going again.

"I'm sure, Spock. I've had worse."

Spock's face twisted slightly, recalling the memories of Jim's childhood but he said nothing. It was getting dark again, and the temperature dropped sharply. This was certainly different, and a welcome change from the relentless and blistering heat. They exchanged glances, and Jim dropped his hand to the holster of his pistol.

"I don't like this." he muttered under his breath.

"I concur. Something must be approaching for the atmosphere to have changed so suddenly." Spock had come to a stop. "I believe the best option for now is to rest. We must make a fire to keep warm."

Jim nodded, but he didn't put his pistol away. Together they hunted for pieces of wood and bark, never leaving each other's sight, and they found a spot that was clear enough to make a fire. Despite this, as it finally became night, it was so cold that the fire did nothing to warm them. Spock sat leaning against a tree, his Captain's coat obviously thick enough as he appeared to be fine, but Jim was just in a shirt and trousers. He sat as near to the fire as he could without getting burnt, but he still shivered uncontrollably. Within hours, his teeth were chattering and his nose was running.

"Th-this is r-r-ridiculous." He stuttered.

Spock looked up at him blankly, the darkness making it difficult to tell whether his eyes were black or brown, and he stared at Jim for a long time, as though examining him. Eventually, and surprisingly, he held out one arm. Jim stared at him, blinking, his eyes wide, not quite understanding whether he was serious or not, but Spock didn't lower his arm and so eventually Jim crawled over to him. He was ashamed to say that he snuggled up to his Captain, resting his head on his chest and tucking his arm in.

Spock's breath tickled the top of Jim's hair. Jim was pretty sure that whatever Spock _was_ ran hotter than humans. His neck was warm against Jim's cheek and after a while he closed his eyes. Of all the places that Jim had slept, this was definitely the oddest, but quite possibly the nicest.

After only a few hours sleep, Jim woke up screaming. Spock covered Jim's mouth with his hand to muffle the noise, only letting go when Jim's blue eyes became clear and awake.

Jim wiped his head with his hand.

"Sorry," he murmured, "Happens a lot."

Spock considered this for a moment.

"I am not surprised. Having seen your...having seen your memories, I think that it is understandable. I am sorry you had to live through all those things." His voice was unexpectedly soft.

"Yeah, well. I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yes," Spock whispered back, "You are."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

It was just as cold the next morning, as thought someone - or something - was controlling the weather just to mess with them. Spock had apparently stayed awake all night, because even though he arranged his face so that it was blank, there were dark circles beneath his eyes. He woke Jim up by gently stroking his hair out of his face, which was the nicest wake up Jim had had since Franklin, and he looked up at his Captain and blinked at him sleepily, before sitting bolt upright as though realising they were still entwined.

"You appear well rested." Spock said, expressionlessly.

Jim smiled, "You did offer."

Spock's lips twitched in what may have been amusement as Jim slowly got up, stretching his neck and his muscles. Spock stood by his side, running a finger down the blade of his sword.

"I believe that are close."

Jim looked around. It didn't look much different...but then he heard it.

Singing.

He looked at Spock, worried.

He looked at Spock, worried, and then actually moved slightly closer to him as the Captain drew his sword and held it out. Together they made their way towards the sound of the singing, and the trees and plants opened out to reveal a beautiful lake that led off on one side, they guessed to join the sea. In the very centre, on wooden stilts, there was a small make-shift hut with a thatched roof, decorated with coloured flowers and beads and jewels. In the lake beneath and surrounding it there were mermaids, just the tops of their heads and their eyes visible, and all of them were looking directly at Jim and Spock. Without thinking, because he was too scared to think straight, Jim reached out and almost grabbed hold of Spock's hand.

A woman stood in front of them. She was tall and skinny, wearing nothing, her skin pale and oddly feathered. Spock and Jim exchanged glances.

"Ah, the courageous Captain. And you? I have not heard tales of you." her voice was light and sweet but there was a darkness in her beady eyes that spoke of crueler intentions, "You have good taste, Captain. He looks _scrumptious_."

Spock pointedly ignored the lingering look she gave Jim's bandaged shoulder.

"I am here for the map."

Her smile twisted. "Oh, I know what you are here for, _Captain_. But you have to pass _my_ tests first. Don't worry, we shall take good care of your _friend_."

Spock began to speak, hand reaching for his sword but the words stuck in his throat. The woman smiled.

"I am not some _mermaid_, not a creature from sailors' stories. I am a Siren, and I am older than you can imagine. I do not need to_ sing_ to bend you to my will."

"Spock!" Jim struggled against the vines that had sprung from the ground, twisting tightly around his legs and dragging him to the floor. "Sp-"

The vines curled tightly around his mouth, leaving only his blue eyes visible. He stared at Spock helplessly as the Siren turned her gaze onto the Captain, and suddenly Spock could not see those blue eyes anymore. He couldn't see anything.

X

Suddenly he was face to face with his mother, her hair black and loose around her shoulders. She held hands with Spock's father, gazing into his eyes and ignoring Spock's presence.

"Mother?" his voice was shaky, uncertain and echoed into the strange chasm of nothingness that surrounded them. "Father?"

His mother turned to look at him, her brown eyes hard and cold. He had never seen her look at him that way before. He felt as though he were a child again.

"You kept us apart." she said, "You were nothing but a burden that we had to bear."

"Mother, I-"

"You are not worthy to be our son," his father said, and looked away.

Spock reached helplessly, and his parents' forms turned to dust between his fingers. He could almost see the Siren smiling in the emptiness surrounding him. He looked around blindly, and suddenly there was a weight in his hand. He looked down - it was a whip. Coated in blood.

Jim's blood.

As he thought this, Jim appeared before him, fallen to his knees with his back a bloody mess. A man was whipping him, a man that Spock recognised from Jim's memories to be his stepfather, Frank. Jim did not scream, even when Frank brought down his arm blindingly hard and splitting Jim's back open at the spine.

Frank vanished, and Spock stood alone over Jim. The blood was dripping down the whip, down the handle and coating Spock's hand.

Without wanting to, his arm rose of its on accord. Spock fought with every fibre of his being but still he brought the whip down on Jim's back, and Jim _screamed_.

And then he vanished.

The deck of the _Enterprise_ appeared under his feet, the crew surrounding him.

"We're all going to die if we keep on following you." It was Uhura, her eyes narrowed.

Sulu stepped forward, clutching at Chekov's hand. "We've been out here for months! And you think some map is going to save us?"

"Vat's going to happen ven ve reach ze Kraken?" The Russian chimed in.

Jim appeared before him, an dark expression upon his face. "You're going to get us all killed." He snapped. "And what for? You saved me from the wreckage of my ship, just to be the death of me!"

"I hate you." Uhura stepped towards him.

"I hate you." Sulu mirrored.

Jim's eyes flashed. "I hate you!"

Spock stumbled backwards as they fizzled from view, and then something even worse caught his attention. The Siren was standing over the ocean, her hands digging into Jim as she dragged him towards the waves. She turned and smiled at Spock, but he couldn't move.

She pushed Jim's head under the water. Jim jerked, trying to escape her iron grasp but she was stronger than him, holding him down with ease. Spock tried to go to him but he was frozen. He knew how scared Jim was of drowning, how the feel of water pressing down on his head terrified him to the bone.

"_JIM_!" Spock yelled, but Jim couldn't hear him, Jim was under the ocean, _dying-_

_Spock? Spock, I'm here. I'm fine._

_Where are you? I cannot see you? Jim? Jim?!_

_I'm right here. She's tricking you, Spock. It's all lies, I promise you. _

_It is not. I _did _whip you. That was a memory, not a vision._

_Spock, it doesn't matter, okay? I'm not dying, the crew doesn't hate you, your parents loved you. I promise you, please believe me, Spock._

_I can feel their pain... your pain... your fear... you carry so much... Frank, he... he..._

_But I'm still here, Spock. I'm still here, I'm here with you and we're going to finish this, together._

_It hurts! I can't contain it anymore! It hurts so much!_

Jim held out a hand.

_Let me help you. You don't have to carry it alone. _

Spock took Jim's hand and suddenly he could see again. The Siren was howling, her voice anguished and echoing across the island which was darkening by the moment. The trees and flowers were wilting, the sand turning to ash beneath their feet. The vines that had clutched Jim tightly fell away, and he stood up moving to Spock's side.

"_I will destroy you_." the Siren shrieked. Spock's lips thinned.

"I highly doubt it."

He lunged forwards, his sword plunging through her stomach. She howled, dropping to her knees, choking out mouthfuls of jet black blood. He pulled the sword out swiftly.

The Siren's body withered away, skin peeling away into flakes.

All that remained was a shriveled black heart, beating in a pile of the ash that covered the ground.

Spock looked round at Jim, who was staring up at him with wide eyes, apparently not having noticed the heart yet, and he stepped towards him and held out a hand.

"There is no need for your concern." Spock said, but it was obvious he was having difficulty regaining a state of calm as his eyes were still a light brown.

"Bullshit. I was just in your head, Spock. You can't lie to me."

"There is nothing to discuss Mr Kirk." Spock narrowed his eyes, but they didn't darken, remaining their light brown.

"_Don't_, Spock. Please. Don't lie to me."

Spock turned away from him and stoop to pick up the Siren's hearts, but Jim took hold of his wrist tightly to stop him.

"Don't shut me out ." He said in a low voice. "Not now."

"If you now know me to the extent that you claim, then you will know that I have difficulty discussing things of a personal nature." Spock said, not looking at him. "So remove your hand Mr Kirk and do not touch me again."

"Spock. I just saved your life _again_, please can you just-"

"Mr Kirk, we can discuss this when we get back to the ship if you are so determined to discuss it!" Spock snapped."

Jim pursed his lips. "Just answer me one question." He whispered. "What can I feel inside my head? There's something there; I first felt it when you touched me that one time and I saw your memory, and now it's stronger. Just...tell me what it is and I'll shut up."

Spock closed his eyes, still not looking at him, and he balled his hands and ripped himself free from Jim's grip. "Unfortunately I am unsure. It appears as though we have formed some sort of bond. I need time to myself to examine it further."

"A bond? What sort of-?"

"Jim, we must return to the _Enterprise_. I swear to you I will explain everything in time."

Jim sighed and rubbed his face. "Fine. Hopefully It won't take three days to get back."

"I believe from the state-" Spock brushed his foot in the ash-coated floor, "of the island, that the Siren's power has faded. We should be able to reach our ship quickly."

Spock picked up the dead heart and strode ahead, not speaking or waiting for Jim who lagged slightly behind. His shoulder was throbbing painfully now, and a quick glanced showed that the bandages were now sopping with dark blood. A wave of dizziness hit him but he carried on, legs shaking at the effort of keeping up with Spock's brisk pace. He felt strange, sick and shaky. He had...he sort of knew that their minds were connected, and he knew that when Spock took his hand in their minds that something had _happened_. And Jim...Jim had...he had used the link between their minds to take the weight. He had sensed it, he had sensed the Siren laying waste to Spock's mind, breaking it. And for some reason Jim hadn't been able to just watch Spock's mind shatter - so he'd taken the weight instead.

Jim had to stop and threw up, a mouthful of black bile spattering onto the ground.

Within seconds Spock was on his knees in front of him, clutching his upper arms to support him. "Something is wrong." He whispered. "Your mind is... off."

Jim forced a chuckle and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "No shit."

"We must get you back to Doctor McCoy immediately." The Captain nodded, attempting to pull Jim upright. Jim's body was trembling violently.

"Don't...don't think he can-" Jim retched again, "he can fix me. Was the Siren with her...her freaky mind shit."

Spock frowned, "I do not understand."

"Fuck. Spock, you...you hide all your emotions, bury them. You don't know how to deal with shit like that, I know you don't . But I do so...when you took my hand, I took the weight. She was going to break your _mind_, Spock what was I supposed to-"

Jim vomited again violently, Spock having to support his full weight. He curled his arm around Jim's waist, almost dragging him forwards, but it was no use. Jim slithered to the ground, clutching a hand to his stomach and wiping his mouth yet again as a trail of black trickled down his chin.

"Fuck." He swore again. "I think my insides are dying!"

What happened next took him completely by surprise. Spock dropped down in front of him, released the Siren's heart, and clutched hold of Jim's head with both hands, pressing together their foreheads. Jim watched him with a frown; there was deep concentration on his Captain's face and he had closed his eyes. He closed his eyes as well, and as soon as he did there was a warm and comforting ripple down his spine.

_Spock?_

_I am here, Jim._

"You ne'er call me...Jim." Jim mumbled out loud, his words slurring, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

_Jim. Listen to me. We are bonded - it is a thing of my kind, a force shared between two minds that are linked, perfectly in harmony. It was unintentional, and I apologise for breaching your privacy but you need to let me in. Jim, let me share the weight with you._

There was a moment of silence before Jim found the strength to reply.

_Don't want you to have to hurt like me._

_Jim, please. Let me save you._

Spock felt the walls around Jim's mind shake and fall away, the Siren's corruption bleeding through. He shuddered at the foul creature's influence, clutching at the link between he and Jim's minds to strengthen him. He could feel the weight on Jim's mind decreasing, his mind healing itself.

He held Jim's body in his arms as the younger man's muscles relaxed, eyes fluttering open and brilliantly blue.

"Spock." he breathed.

"Jim." Spock replied.

Jim smiled.

Jim smiled. "You're gonna have'ta teach me that... neat trick..." He was still slurring slightly, even though he felt much better now.

"I apologise I cannot explain in more detail." Spock replied. "I shall do once we are back aboard The Enterprise."

He lifted Jim to his feet, an arm about his waist, and then he picked up the Siren's heart and together they hobbled through the black and decaying forest until they saw the sea and the ship. Spock took complete control in the life boat, shouting for help once they reached the side of the ship as Jim was too weak to climb the ladder and despite his super-human strength, Spock decided that carrying Jim over his shoulder may injure him. But no one replied. It was then they noticed that the was nothing but silence. Not even the wind was blowing.

Jim leant heavily on Spock as they clambered onto the _Enterprise_, and they stared together in complete dismay.

The entire crew were asleep. Some had fallen from the sails and had obviously broken bones, others had collapsed where they had been standing, faces all calm and deep in sleep. Jim removed himself from Spock's grasp, dropping to his knees by Chekov and Sulu who had fallen with their hands entwined.

"Sulu?" he called hoarsely, shaking him, "Sulu, wake up!"

"Sulu?" he called hoarsely, shaking him, "Sulu, wake up!"

The Asian pulled a face and made a groaning sound. "Mmfive more minutes!"

Jim rolled his eyes and clambered gently back to his feet. "They're fine." He said.

Spock went up to Uhura, who was slumped against the railings, and he kicked her gently. She jumped awake immediately.

"C-Captain!"

Jim leant against the side of the ship, closing his eyes. As the enchantments surrounding the island fell away the breeze picked up, filling the sails. The _Enterprise_ shivered beneath them, ready to sail. Sulu got to his feet and took his place at the helm, looking to Spock for direction.

"Did we get what we came for, sir?" Uhura asked.

Spock just nodded at her, and then he looked around until he saw Bones. He pointed at Jim. "Doctor McCoy I request that you examine him thoroughly." He ordered, and then marched into his cabin.

Bones looked at Jim with raised eyebrows. "Well it looks like you to had a lovely time." He said.

Jim pulled a face. He wanted nothing but to follow Spock into his cabin and... and what? Talk to him? Kiss him? He sighed at the thought. So they were bonded, whatever the hell that meant. As Bones led him down to his room, he half-closed his eyes and felt for that warm thing at the back of his mind. It seemed to tremble when he did so, comfortingly, welcomingly, and without even realising he was doing it Jim smiled. He didn't even noticed himself being lifted onto the bed and Bones unwrapping his shoulder to redress it. The sharp twinge of pain brought him sharply back to reality.

"_Shit_. Fuck, Bones that hurts."

"Dammit man, it's not my fault you went wandering off."

Jim smiled and looked down, "True. That was my fault."

Bones' face softened and he rolled his eyes as he re-bandaged Jim's shoulder. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Jim lowered his gaze. "Mermaids. A Siren." He half shrugged with his good shoulder. "No biggy."

"Ah ha? And you and the err... Captain?"

"You tell me." Jim laughed.

Bones nodded slowly. "Okay. Now, don't you get on that rigging. Get Spock to find you something else to do, it's going to take a while for that muscle to grow back."

"Yessir." Jim got up and headed for Spock's cabin. The door was unlocked. "Hey, Spock."

The Captain was sprawled out on his bed on his front, all his clothes removed but for his trousers, his bear feet hanging off the end of the bed. He didn't move when Jim entered, or speak, but somehow Jim just knew he was welcome. He closed the bedroom door behind him, and pursed his lips, not sure what to say. Spock still didn't move.

"So Bones said that I'm not to be on the rigging for a while. Since that mermaid sort of chewed off my muscle so...what should...uh. What should I do instead?"

Spock lifted himself up onto his elbows and looked round at him, his brown eyes examining Jim up and down slowly, in a way that made the man blush and feel awkward.

"Uuuh...do I have something on my shirt?"

Spock's lips twitched. Jim looked down to see he had Siren goop splattered over his chest. Shrugging, he tugged off his shirt awkwardly, standing half-naked in Spock's cabin with a smug grin on his face. Spock simply raised an eyebrow.

"Fascinating. I suggest that you accompany Sulu on the helm."

Jim winked, "Sure thing, Captain. You promised to tell me about this bond thing, by the way."

"I remember, however I require time to myself to examine exactly what has occurred." Spock said, flatly.

Jim's face fell. "Oh. Okay. Well... take all the time you need."

He went back to his hammock feeling slightly disheartened, somehow able to curl up without squashing his shoulder, and he closed his eyes and searched for that warm light at the back of his mind, because it was familiar and made the pain go away. Whatever this bond was, it wasn't horrible, and Jim kind of liked having it there. It thrummed at his acknowledgement. It seemed to grow in warmth, and Jim wondered if by seeking it out he was making it stronger. A small smile passed his lips, but then just as he was about to slip into sleep he saw something.

The image of him being drowned by the Siren flashed before his eyes and Jim sat bolt upright, almost toppling himself from the hammock. He could feel fear; blind panic, his heart was racing as though he was having a nightmare, but he was definitely wide awake before as well as the images he could also see the cabin about him. Jim closed his eyes and pulled his blanket over his head until it was pitch black, and he searched wildly for the warm light, for the bond.

_I cannot save him... Jim..._

_Jim immediately knew what was going on. Spock. Is that you?_

_Jim? How are you able to communicate? There was a pause. The bond... you are feeding it. _There was relief in his voice.

_Uhh, apparently. I have no idea how this works so...but yeah. Are you okay? I saw the nightmare. Do you need me to- do you need anything? I could get Uhura or-_

Spock interrupted gently. _No. I do not need anything. Go back to sleep. That is an order, Jim._

Jim heard nothing more after that no matter how many times he called out to Spock through their bond. Instead he tried to sleep, but every time he got anywhere close to dropping off he saw a flash of a nightmare that wasn't his. He tried again, and again, to talk to Spock, to ask him if he was alright, but there was nothing. In the end Jim climbed out of bed and crept through the cabin, passing only a random crew member who was standing on deck with a lantern and a blanket wrapped about his shoulders, but he didn't see Jim slip into the Captain's cabin.

Spock was fast asleep when he found him. Jim tried talking to him normally, as well as through their bond, and even prodded him a few times, but the Vulcan was in such a deep state of sleep that he didn't stir once. Jim pulled up a chair and watched him after that, hoping that by being close he could bring some sort of comfort. It wasn't long however until his head started to nod and his eyes became so heavy he couldn't keep them open, and defeated, Jim removed his shirt and crawled into bed beside Spock. The Vulcan was incredibly warm to the touch, and Jim tried really hard not to touch him. He had no idea if it was because of their bond or not, but Jim didn't feel guilty when he thought about Franklin now. He missed him still, of course, and he still loved him, but being close to Spock helped. With that thought he closed his eyes.

When Jim woke up, to his eternal surprise, Spock was curled around him almost protectively. Jim savored the heat radiating off of Spock's skin and lay very, very still. When Spock woke up, he wanted it to be absolutely clear that it was totally _Spock_ who was doing this whole snuggling thing. Not that Jim minded. It felt nice to be held.

There was a faint warming at the back of his mind, and Jim realised that Spock was gently touching their bond. Jim didn't know whether it was intentional or a subconscious thing so he stayed still and silent. There was something between them now, something that could be explained and defined. Jim desperately wanted to know what it was.

Ever so softly he touched the bond back, testing, to see what would happen, to see whether Spock was awake yet or not, and to his delight the faint warming became a stronger warming. It rippled through Jim like a breeze, familiar and happy, making his stomach leap, but not in a pleasurable way, more in the way when you're handed a huge slice of cake. He felt giddy, happier than he had felt in a long time. Sensing that Spock was beginning to wake up, Jim gently rolled onto his side so that he was facing him, waiting for the Captain to open his eyes.

He didn't speak as Spock's brown eyes slowly opened, taking in the sight of Jim encased in his arms without any surprise.

_Jim_.

Jim smiled.

_Spock._

Spock stared at him for a very long time. Jim cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You kept having these little nightmares and I couldn't get to sleep so...should I go?"

The Captain's expression dampened. "If you wish to go, I shall not stop you." He replied.

Jim couldn't help but smile. "I don't want to go. You smell good. And you're so warm!"

Spock blinked at him, at a complete loss for what to do, and Jim felt uncertainty that wasn't his. Jim slid his arms around Spock's waist hesitantly, shifting so their bodies were aligned in a warm line from chest to toes. Spock said nothing but his arms, already encircling Jim, tightened. His brown eyes were alight with both fear and something else, something warm that curled through their bond, making them hold each other more tightly. Jim was the one who broke the silence.

"What is this bond, Spock?" he murmured, lips inches from Spock's neck.

"It is a custom of my people." He whispered. Spock had tensed at their sudden closeness. "As children, a bondmate is picked out for us and we are bonded. I however do not have a bondmate. My mother was a human, such as yourself, and she wished for me to have a choice in who I am bonded with. So far I had not found a suitable mate. My bond with you Jim was unintentional."

Jim wiggled a little closer, even though he couldn't really be pressed up against Spock any further. "That's okay thought, right? It being unintentional? You don't regret it?"

Spock considered this for a long time. It was obvious their closeness was making him feel uncomfortable. No longer was he the fierce pirate Captain Jim had got to know. Spock was off-guard, out of his comfort zone, unsure of what to do or say or how to act. Jim wondered when the last time was Spock let someone in.

"I am not opposed to it." Spock eventually said.

Jim moved so his forehead was resting on Spock's collarbone. Spock's breath hitched at the contact, and Jim's heart beat a little faster at the sound.

"Neither am I."


End file.
